


The Undesired Second Chance

by poplasia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Butterfly Effect, Dimension Travel, Gen, OC Protagonist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplasia/pseuds/poplasia
Summary: Axel Brandt is a highly intelligent but overall normal guy. He lives a normal life, has a normal engineering job, has normal friends, so on and so forth. But then he died… or not. Displaced and still very much alive, now he's found himself in a distinctly abnormal situation. Ninjas are not something he wants to deal with.





	1. A Series of Unexpected Events

Jet lag, Axel decided, was the absolute worst feeling.

Well, jet lag after several sleepless days working to wrap up a project, presenting said project, and then immediately taking a plane back home to Germany from the opposite side of the world probably broke his scale and scattered its shattered pieces on the wind, so he had to settle with 'absolute worst'. Not to mention that his tired, short-circuited brain was more likely to fall apart than think up a more eloquent gripe.

He resisted yawning for a grand total of maybe three seconds and then almost fell asleep when his bleary blue eyes briefly blinked shut. Sleep had been in short supply lately. Non-existent during the flight, in fact, since he had been stuck sitting amidst an overeager Japanese tourist group that, apparently, didn't need to sleep. Thus Axel had the dubious honor of spending most of the flight answering a veritable barrage of questions about Europe and Germany and München specifically, asked rapid-fire in a language he was only two steps above familiar with. How the insistent bunch could notice enough about his features to correctly peg him as a German but skim over his obvious exhaustion and attempts to evade conversation was beyond him.

He just couldn't, for the _life_ of him, get them to _shut up_!

And he _had_ tried. Several times, in fact. Some of his later attempts were almost blatantly rude, but all were unsuccessful.

Looking back, he really should have just pretended that he didn't understand Japanese at all. Shame he hadn't thought of that at the time.

Nothing against the Japanese in general, of course. Axel _had_ just spent the last few months in their country for work, not to mention the time he had spent learning enough to be halfway decent at understanding the language. But right now, looking back on the flight as he stands dizzily sleep deprived at the airport baggage claim amidst an uncomfortably dense crowd and still at least an hour away from the comfort of his own bed, well… he wasn't feeling very charitable.

Yawning again, Axel scrubbed a hand through his short straw-blond hair and tried to rub the sleep from his face. It didn't work. Next time, he promised to himself, don't count on sleeping during a long plane ride. And, since he was thinking about it, probably not a good choice to pull all-nighters right before either. He had _no_ idea why he had ever thought that'd be a good idea.

Readjusting the straps of his backpack and rolling his shoulders had him feeling somewhat more steady on his feet, though it was probably just wishful thinking: the world still seemed to spin when he moved too fast. If he looked as bad as he felt… Well, judging by the condition of his scarf, wrung out and wrinkled after hours of fiddling with it as he talked with the excitable tourists, he probably looked a hair shy of 'walking corpse'. On that note, he eyed a nearby vending machine; perhaps he could buy something caffeinated in an attempt to resurrect his sleep-deprived self.

But no, as much as he wanted another burst of artificial energy, it definitely wouldn't be the best idea. A full 24 hours running on chemicals is already more than enough.

He was broken from his musing when he finally spotted his suitcase round a bend on the baggage carousel, grabbed the closest handle to heave it off, and finally began making his way to the exit.

Axel walked out of the terminal and toward a less packed area of the concourse, looking around and just taking in the fact that he was finally back in München (even if just in its airport). The ceiling arched overhead, mid-afternoon light streaming through its clear glass panels. He basked in it for a moment—and he hoped it was just a moment and he hadn't been standing there like a dunce for minutes on end—before reluctantly turning his attention from the glorious almost-warmth of the sun. In his defense, the past week hadn't left any time to just have a quiet moment.

Weaving through the rest of the waiting crowd and onto an escalator down to the S-Bahn platform, he heaved an exhausted sigh. Then his bag got caught on something and he had to tug it free, which nearly sent him falling down the steps. The sigh changed into a muttered curse.

Once safely on the escalator, he took the chance to just stop and listen as the intercom made an announcement about the arriving trains. Hearing German spoken again by someone other than himself to himself in cases of extreme annoyance had been a much greater comfort than he had expected. Axel couldn't help but smile at the fact that, for the first time in as many months, he was back in his home country and just a shortish train ride from his bed. _His_ bed, and wasn't the thought just wonderful? The novelty of temporary accommodation wears off rather quickly, he had learned.

He stumbled off the escalator, nearly face-planting on unforgiving concrete before somehow recovering. However, he did step out of the way to take a moment and re-orient his sense of balance before setting off again.

Barely avoiding collisions with all the people rushing into or meandering about the platform was a miracle in and of itself, but Axel managed to reach one of the ticket machines without too much trouble. Tapping through the options as quickly as he dared, he found the one he needed and made his purchase. And then almost left it behind in the machine: thankfully the person behind him was more aware and caught his mistake. Reasonably sure he had everything he needed, Axel finally wandered off to find somewhere to wait for his train to arrive.

It was only when he heard the intercom make another announcement that he realized he had zoned out again. More alarmingly, he had drifted dangerously close to the edge of the platform while distracted.

A train swept through the station, tossing his short hair out of his face and filling the concrete hall with a symphony of whooshing wind and singing train tracks.

He took a huge step back.

It's a good thing he wasn't driving, since in all likelihood he'd end up getting himself killed by his own scattered attention. Walking even farther away from the edge, Axel leaned back against the side of the escalator. There were benches, but he decided to avoid them for fear that he wouldn't be able to get up again if he sat down.

Axel resisted another yawn and blinked his eyes back open when he realized they had shut at some point. He checked his wristwatch, worried that he might have missed his train and would be forced to wait another grueling quarter-hour-or-something before beginning the last leg of his journey. Another grueling quarter-hour-or-something-plus-train-time before glorious, stress-free sleep. But no, thankfully his lapse had only lasted two minutes.

A train whooshed in on the other side of the platform, stopping to let off its passengers. It wasn't the one Axel was waiting for.

And another, but this one _was_ the one he wanted. He got on with only minimal issues—his bag snagged again, this time in the gap between train and platform. In other news, he felt a bit less tired. Adrenaline does that.

“What, are you _trying_ to get me killed?” Axel hissed at his luggage after arriving at an available seat. One of the other passengers chuckled quietly at something, and he was abruptly reminded that here and now, being back in München meant other people would be able to understand him when he grumbled to himself in German.

That didn't really matter though, since there really wasn't much difference between getting weird looks for what was said and getting weird looks for the language it was said in. What did matter was that he had almost half an hour until his stop, and that meant one thing: nap time. Maybe after a bit more rest he'd stop accusing inanimate objects of attempted murder.

He pulled out his phone, set five or six alarms, sat down backpack-and-all, and was awake for all of maybe two seconds before conking out.

Axel slept like the dead, and when his alarms went off he certainly _felt_ like the dead.

He thought naps were supposed to _help_ with exhaustion. After catching sight of his reflection in one of the train windows, he grimaced. 'Walking corpse' indeed.

After a halfhearted attempt to piece his face back together, he had to call it a lost cause. In a move of great foresight, he hadn't brought a comb with him to deal with his short hair that had somehow worked itself into even more disarray during his nap. And of course there was nothing he could do about his scruffy face; even if he had a razor, his hand was so shaky that he'd be more likely to slit his own throat than successfully shave.

A few minutes later and it was finally his stop. He trooped off with a few others and took a deep breath.

It was good to be back. He smiled and, for the nth time in as many minutes, yawned hugely.

He walked the rest of the way since it was fairly likely—nearly guaranteed—that if he sat down again he wouldn't be getting up for at least a few hours. Besides, München's cobbled streets called to him, and if a few of those calls nearly led him into oncoming traffic, well… He'd just need to forgive and forget.

And finally he was back: standing in front of his small apartment building, walking to _his_ front door, unlocking it and shouldering through, seeing the familiar furniture, posters, books, and even the questionable reddish stain on the flint-gray carpet (it had been there since he moved in). Everything was such a welcome sight: even the stain, though Axel did set his baggage down over it to cover it up.

Taking in the familiar sights of his empty apartment with a happy (albeit sleepy) smile, he sat himself on the ground with his back against his bed. It was more comfortable than one might expect.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned off airplane mode. After a moment the device went crazy with buzzes, updating all the texts he had missed during his flight: two from his parents, a couple from friends wanting to meet up now that he would be back in town, and eleven from his little sister. That's pretty much what he expected.

Tapping back a few short messages to friends promising drinks and stories, followed by one to his parents saying he had gotten home safely, he shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor. One person left. His sister's name glowed at him from his phone's screen and he couldn't help but smile. Honestly, Adriane could be such a doofus sometimes.

Did he need someone to send the occasional text counting down to his arrival back in Germany? No.

Doesn't mean he didn't appreciate it.

He called, but she must have been in class since it went straight to her answering machine.

“And now we finally reach 'zero',” he said, finishing her countdown for her. The sharp edges of the German words were blurrier than usual due to his jet-lagged exhaustion. “Looks like I made it back in one piece, Adri. The flight was a nightmare even though I didn't even get any sleep, but I'll tell you more later. Want to get lunch? You can tell me how your first year's going. You've been in Uni for one whole semester right? You _have_ to have some stories by now; we can do a trade! Anyway, I need some sleep so… See you tomorrow, hopefully!”

For a moment he just sat there staring up at the ceiling with a small grin. His own first year felt like ages ago… and _wow_ he felt old when he put it that way—he was barely twenty, come on! Not nearly old enough to be nostalgically reminiscing about the 'golden age' of his university days. Sure, everyone else was at _least_ five years his senior at the time, but he was still good friends with the other members of his old club: a medieval recreation group called the Society of Creative Anachronism, or SCA for short. He had joined to find an outlet for his interest in blacksmithing, since just because he had majored in metallurgical and materials engineering didn't mean he had a valid excuse to forge swords and stuff.

Plus, despite graduating from university and going their separate ways into the workforce, his friends and he all tried to schedule their vacation time around the larger events so they could go as a group. And they still occasionally pestered him to make armor or weapons or just generally help them with their medieval personas or…

Axel realized that he must have fallen asleep at some point during his recollections when he woke up to darkness and an empty stomach. His next realization was that he definitely wouldn't have any food in his fridge. Or the pantry. And he was fairly sure he had eaten all of his flight snacks. He then realized how uncomfortable it was to have slept sitting up against his bed frame rather than in it. While he _had_ been planning on relocating to the mattress before conking out, clearly his brain had had other ideas.

“Aua…”

Pushing his reluctant body upright and stretching out the worst of the cricks, Axel forced himself to walk back to the door. He made sure to grab his backpack on the way—he'd left his wallet in it and was too tired to fish it out. God, he _really_ needed something to eat. Thankfully there was a convenience store down the block that should still be open.

Good enough for now.

And he was outside again, the crisp night air maybe doing the slightest bit to rouse him. Stepping onto the sidewalk with a deep breath, Axel began his slow trip to the store. He was waiting at a crosswalk when he heard…

He turned to the street and was blinded.

Axel wasn't tired anymore.

Adrenaline does that.

His could see the truck, even the driver at the wheel, slumped over on the horn and probably unconscious. He ran a few split-second mental calculations: probable mass, velocity, trajectory, distance…

There was only one conclusion, and he thought he might have cursed out loud but he didn't really notice because, well… there was no helping it.

He was dead.

Axel's world knew white, then red, and pain, then darkness.

 

=X=X=X=

 

And then, somehow, white again.

He blinked up at the ceiling—clean and clinical, though the lights were oddly outdated—and some part of him was collected enough to guess he had somehow gotten to a hospital. Glancing around the plain room didn't tell him much else: it was very white, undecorated, and generally very hospital-like. No wait, there was some decoration: an oriental-looking scroll hung up right by the headboard, which struck him as kind of weird. But then, he'd never been in a hospital before so he wouldn't really know. A soft knock at the door startled him slightly.

“Ja?” Nobody came in for a moment, so he added, “Sie können rein kommen.”

Another moment passed before the door finally swung open to admit a slightly confused-looking elderly Asian gentleman. Axel took note of the older man's appearance—clean professional clothes (if a bit old fashioned and also distinctly oriental)—and decided he seemed pretty trustworthy.

And then the man spoke and Axel's mind might as well be flatlining for all the help it was being.

Because, just… Japanese!?

His thoughts stuttered to a halt, sure that his observation was correct but drawing a blank as to how it was even possible. Though his brain was still catching up to the language shift, he _was_ able to catch at least some of it.

And by 'some of it', he caught something about finally waking up and finding a forest. Then, because telling him about finding a forest makes absolutely zero sense, Axel corrected his translation: more likely it had actually been about finding _him_ in a forest. But he did understand the whole last sentence, so he counted it as a success overall.

“How are you feeling?”

Axel considered: his right leg, he belatedly noticed, was suspended in a cast and thus was likely broken, his ribs hurt with a deep persistent pain, and general aches were everywhere. With his not-bad-but-still-nowhere-near-fluent knowledge of the Japanese language, he finally answered with an uncertain, “Better?”

It was clear by the curling grin the doctor gave him that his accent was as atrocious as he thought. He said something else that Axel struggled to catch—something about his head? Maybe hitting his…

Oh, fantastic; the doctor apparently thought he had brain damage for some reason. Then Axel remembered that he currently has no idea where he is and, in fact, had thought that he had been in his home city hit by a truck when he had, apparently, been in a forest on the other side of the world hit by a… something.

Somehow.

Alright, so maybe there's a case for this brain damage idea.

When next the doctor spoke, Axel was too distracted to decipher any of what was said and ended up just staring back blankly. The doctor, showing commendable patience, repeated himself without complaint. “My name is Kimura Shuichi. What is yours?”

An introduction was simple enough and certainly within Axel's capabilities, even as confused as he was. “I…” Yet his brain decided to prove him wrong, faltering on recalling the full phrase, though only for a moment. “I am Axel Brandt.”

It didn't escape his notice that Dr. Kimura's—Axel was pretty sure that that was his family name and thus doubly sure he had just introduced himself backwards—expression became almost comically disbelieving when he finished introducing himself. Sure enough, the doctor was soon butchering Axel's name.

“Ak—” The doctor paused, considering, before attempting: “Akuseru Buranto?”

One might think that it would be easier to pronounce something correctly when it had just been said aloud, but there are some language quirks and accents that tend to mess things up. It was something Axel had especially noticed about the people he had worked with in Tokyo—'X's and 'L's tend to be an issue for Japanese, meaning his name was always difficult—so he just repeated his pronunciation slightly slower. “Ax-el Brandt.”

Dr. Kimura just shook his head this time, choosing not to make another attempt quite yet. He did, however, say something about strange names: Axel didn't think he had the language skills to argue with that. The doctor did a few more doctor things, generally checking him over, before prescribing continued bed rest and leaving to check up on other patients.

Axel stared up at the ceiling, finally alone _and_ awake and thus (presumably) able to figure out what had happened. He had stumble-asked the doctor a few things: the results were more confusing than illuminating. Apparently one of the villagers passing by had found him passed out and bleeding a few minutes away from the village in the surrounding forest and that was that. Axel found it a tad odd that Dr. Kimura _didn't_ seem to find it overly strange to encounter severely injured people lying around in the woods, but then who knows. Maybe the woods around here are particularly dangerous for some reason.

Regardless, that doesn't change the fact that he had somehow turned up _back_ in Japan, injured, with none of his luggage save his backpack and whatever was in it. He knew why he was injured (he wasn't just going to _forget_ his near-death encounter), and missing luggage was fairly easy to accept, but missing out on traveling halfway around the world was another matter entirely.

“Gott im Himmel… Bin ich verrückt?” Axel groaned to himself. Well, maybe insanity was a perfectly valid explanation.

 

=X=X=X=

 

The patient in the other room must be crazy.

No, scratch that. All the circumstances around him, in _addition_ to the man himself: all crazy.

Even before he had woken up things weren't making sense. Morimoto Kichirou, the blacksmith's boy, had found him bleeding in the forest, minutes outside of town in a clearing just off the side of the road. From his injuries—broken right leg, bruised ribs, lots of normal bruises basically everywhere, cuts, and maybe a slight concussion as well—it could be guessed that something had slammed into him with some force and more than likely sent him flying. Now Kimura Shuichi wasn't much of a shinobi himself, having studied exclusively medical ninjutsu and literately nothing else before retiring from the force to run his family's clinic, but the only thing he could think of that could cause that kind of damage was a ninjutsu. But then… the surrounding ground was completely undisturbed. Hell, according to Kichirou-kun even the thin layer of frost had been unbroken before he had trampled it when he went to help.

So the man was found gravely injured with _absolutely no_ _signs_ as to how.

And then he woke up and things somehow got _more_ crazy.

Shuichi had been hoping he could get some answers out of him once he woke up, but that clearly wouldn't be an option. At least not for a while. His speech was so rough and tinted by… _something_ that the doctor could barely understand him. In the end all he had learned was his name. Not that he could even pronounce it.

It's not that he was annoyed that his patient was finally awake and on the road to full recovery, but _honestly_.

He let his head thud onto the paperwork on his desk, scattering a few by the edge, and groaned an annoyed sigh. Peeking through one eye showed him the butchered attempts at writing the patient's name down at the top of a form. It was the report he was writing up, as had to be done for any suspicious character that couldn't be accounted for, but he didn't know what to put down for most of it. As such he had ended up leaving most of it blank, save for two things: name and age.

Specifically that the patient's name was something along the lines of 'Akuseru Buranto' (but sharper somehow) and he was (probably) in his early 20s.

That's it. That's all Shuichi knew.

Part of him grumbled that he was getting too old to need to deal with these things.

At this point he hadn't even looked too closely at the fact that his patient should be dead. Should have been dead since he had first been brought in. Was dead even now, technically… but not. It was easy to see that he still breathed, that his heart still beat—he was _alive_ —despite one glaring point that should make it impossible: he didn't have a chakra system.

Which, now that he thought about it, probably explained why it had been so hard to stabilize him; trying to use what medical jutsu he could still perform felt like trying to keep water in a strainer: the chakra he put into the technique just drained away before doing anything. Though that's not quite accurate, since he had been able to make a difference for the broken bones by shoving way more healing chakra than should be needed and directly forcing it to stay in place with every single ounce of control he had. And even then it had been slow-going, energy intensive, _exhausting_ work that didn't fix _nearly_ as much as he had hoped. All of that's beside the point though.

The point is, his patient has no chakra.

He has _absolutely no chakra_.

But he was awake in the other room, just down the hall, so Shuichi must have made a mistake. Because if it wasn't a mistake then the man in the other room just down the hall should be dead _and he clearly isn't_.

“I'm getting too old for this,” he repeated, but this time out loud and mumbled into his paperwork. Deciding that he must have been wrong, since the alternative was literally impossible, he scribbled down that the patient was a civilian. A barely-there chakra system (and there _had_ to be a chakra system, he told himself) could mean nothing else.

There was a sudden loud knock on his door: only one, and very heavy-handed. With yet another sigh, though this one more fond annoyance than just plain annoyed, Shuichi called, “Kichirou-kun, please. While knocking is the polite thing to do, if you could avoid denting my door whenever you stop by I would appreciate it.”

“Sorry, Kimura-sensei. I'll keep that in mind.” The door slid to the side to reveal exactly who he expected, though looking quite a bit dirtier than usual. Morimoto Kichirou was pretty tall for a 15-year-old, and right now most of him was covered in a fine layer of soot from his father's smithy. Even his near-black hair was several shades darker than it should be.

“All the same, given that you haven't stopped yet, I doubt you'll stop now.” The doctor ran a hand through his greying hair in an exasperated gesture, but his crinkling smile said otherwise. “Though usually you do try to clean yourself up more before rushing over.”

At least the teen had the decency to look a bit chagrined at that, though not for long. “Sorry, I just… Is it true he's woken up?”

Shuichi nodded. “I believe he's been conscious for nearly two hours now.”

There was a pause as Kichirou-kun waited for him to say more, expectant, but his patience dried out quickly. “Well? What's up with 'em?”

“It's 'with _him_ '. And honestly…” For what might as well have been the hundredth time, he mentally ran through his brief interaction with his patient. “I have no idea.”

“Didn't you ask him? You _had_ to have gotten the guy's name, right?”

At that the doctor grinned, appreciating both the irony and the boy's increasingly frustrated expression. “Yes, I asked.”

“Oh come on, Kimura-sensei! Tell me!”

“His name is—” and of course he knew he was going to say it wrong, “—Akuseru Buranto.”

A blink. “Aku-what-now?”

“I know. When he first woke up he was rambling nonsense. I suspect he had been caught in a genjutsu of some sort.” While there had been injuries to the man's head, there was nothing that would suggest such a loss of linguistic skill. “Fortunately he still remembers _some_ when it comes to speaking, even if his speech is horribly stilted and the way he pronounces words…” Shuichi shook his head, at a loss. “The man made no sense most of the time.”

Kichirou-kun flopped himself down in the room's other chair, looking incredibly disappointed. “Dang, man. I was hoping to weasel some cool stories out of him.”

An idea struck, and the doctor's expression became slightly scheming. “Well, if you are so interested in getting Akuseru-san to talk, then perhaps something could be arranged.”

The teen became pensive, clearly picking up on the older man's tone.

“Speaking lessons, then? That will work nicely,” Shuichi slyly continued. “Practice holding a conversation should help my patient overcome his strange impediment: what a fantastic suggestion, Kichirou-kun! Shall we arrange a schedule for you to—”

“Wait, a schedule?”

“Of course! You'll need to come by once a day, I suppose, to guarantee progress.”

“Once a day,” the boy repeated under his breath. He was absolutely flabbergasted by this point. “I don't… I can't… I mean, once a day?! I already help Dad in the smithy, how much free time you think I got?”

The doctor corrected, “Come now: ' _do_ you think I _have_ '. And I think that if you have enough time to wander in and pester me every other day then you might as well help out every now and then.”

There was no argument at that, only a defeated-sounding sigh. “Okay, _fine_.”

“Fantastic!” Shuichi clapped his hands together, giving the arrangement a sense of finality. “Come along, let's go introduce you to him.”

“You mean now? As in _now_ now?”

Sure, he was perhaps enjoying pestering the teen a bit too much, but don't begrudge an old man his entertainment. Walking around his desk, he shepherded the younger boy out the door and down the hall. “Why not?”

Before any answer could be given, he knocked on the door to his patient's room. From the other side they heard, “Ja, bitte— Uh, ich meine… Please come in.”

The doctor pushed the door open, ignoring the incredulous look Kichirou-kun shot him: it's not his fault the boy thought he had been exaggerating. Akuseru-san was sitting up, at least as much as he had been able to manage by himself, and he gave them a polite, slightly confused smile as they walked in.

“I trust everything is still fine, Akuseru-san?”

“Yes.” The man paused for a moment, clearly thinking over what to say next. “Sorry. I said my name the wrong way. It is Brandt Axel.”

Kichirou-kun's expression was getting more incredulous by the second and even Shuichi, who was beginning to suspect the craziness had no bounds, was a bit thrown by the name flip.

“Then I must apologize for my rudeness, Buranto-san.”

There was another pause as his patient digested his words and, though the doctor didn't know it, did his best to translate. “Nein, es ist…” He paused, his expression becoming disgruntled, and tried again. “No problem. You can call me Axel, please. Who is this?”

“I'm Morimoto Kichirou,” the teen replied, since clearly he was the new face. “Nice to meet you, Aku— Akus… Crap. Um, could you repeat your name?”

“Axel.”

After a moment's consideration, Kichirou-kun took a crack at pronouncing the strange name. “Akser-san?”

“Fast richtig!” From the man's grin the remark was something positive, quickly proven when he added, “…er, very close!”

Kichirou-kun looked like he was mulling over the name again, before demanding, “Say it again, man!”

“Uh, Axel…?”

“Akser,” the teen repeated. “Ak-kser. Aks-ur. Dang, how're you doing that? I know I'm wrong, but I just can't get it!”

Smiling somewhat apologetically, Buranto-san (Shuichi decided he'd use the man's surname, partially due to convention but mostly because it'd be easier than the other name to figure out how to pronounce) just shrugged and said nothing. He clearly didn't know how to help on that front, likely lacking the words to try and explain further.

Shuichi, however, took this lull in the conversation to state, “There will be plenty of time for you to figure out how to say his name, since you'll be helping Buranto-san regain his speaking skills.”

“I'm gonna visit a lot to get you to practice talking more!” clarified Kichirou-kun, noticing the blond man's confused expression. He ignored Shuichi's attempt to correct his grammar and just continued speaking. “I mean, it'll probably be a lot of work, but at least it will be interesting, right?”

It took Axel a moment to understand the sentence and the hours of boredom between the teen's frequent visits to catch the sentiment, but in a few weeks he would come to wholeheartedly agree. By that point, however, it wouldn't be about the lessons or practicing language. No, by then it will have more to do with _literally everything else_.

Because really, adjusting to a new language is minor when compared with adjusting to a new world.

_At least it will be interesting, right?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Let's get this started! Welcome to the story of Axel Brandt, a normal guy who has just been abruptly displaced from his dimension and thrown into a world of what might as well be martial arts wizards. And he hasn't even realized it yet. It's pretty impressive, actually, since it takes him ages to figure it out (ah, ignorant denial).  
> This story will probably be less action than most other Naruto fanfictions out there, given the main character can't do any ninja nonsense. Which isn't to say there won't be any ninja nonsense. Or that the main character is completely helpless when faced with ninja nonsense.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates will come on the 15th of every month. In the mean time, please leave a comment with what you think of the story so far, questions, mistakes you've spotted, or ideas for the future.  
> Thanks to everyone who leaves a kudos, writes a comment, or even just reads it! You guys are all awesome, and I hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> This is will also be posted on FanFiction, so if you use both Ao3 and ff.net (like me) and see it there that's still me!  
> Also, if you're interested, here's a link to the cover art: https://goo.gl/lNonbY
> 
> Translations:  
> "Ja? Sie können rein kommen." = "Yes? You can come in."  
> "Gott im Himmel… Bin ich verrückt?" = "God in heaven… Am I crazy?"  
> "Ja, bitte— Uh, ich meine…" = "Yes, please— Uh, I mean…"  
> "Nein, es ist…" = "No, it's…"  
> "Fast richtig!" = "Almost right!"
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	2. Live and Let Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still blissfully unaware.

After nearly a week cooped up in the small hospital, Axel was going a bit stir crazy. Sure, Kichirou's visits helped alleviate the boredom—forcing him to shift gears from zero to goddamn-it-takes-so-much-effort-just-to-understand-you without much warning—but practicing an unfamiliar language is not… He couldn't say it was very fun at this point. It is interesting. It is a good challenge. The actual conversations were always entertaining, like talking with long-time friends.

But it is _exhausting_.

At least both of his regular visitors were finally pronouncing his name correctly (enough).

His own pronunciation of their names, however… it left quite a bit to be desired: it was as correct as his accent allowed. He was still practicing, though, since if they were going to put in the effort to learn his name he sure as hell was going to return the favor. Especially since they were also patient with his still-developing skill in Japanese. Neither doctor nor teenager knew any German or, more surprisingly, any English—which admittedly struck him as a bit odd, but whatever—so instead they had taken it upon themselves to teach him more of their language. Axel didn't have much hope that his understanding was improving, but it was the thought that counts.

Just yesterday Kichirou had come in ranting about 'sneaking rocks and leafs' or something, so he clearly must not be making much progress on that front. Unless that was one of those unhelpfully cryptic oriental sayings, in which case… yeah, unhelpful.

So, yes. He was still bored, confused, and lost with little more than the clothes in his backpack.

Not the clothes on his back, since those had been pretty much ruined by whatever had beat him up so badly. His cellphone was another casualty of the mysterious apparently-not-with-a-truck accident, having been stuffed in his pocket. The screen was cracked and falling out of its bent casing, completely unusable, but he thought he might be able to salvage the memory card. It was a pleasant surprise, if somewhat unexplainable, to find that his backpack had survived largely unscathed.

Which meant that at least he had something he could do other than practice Japanese: take inventory of what he had. The backpack had a change of clothes, his favorite gray puffy jacket, his laptop and its solar charger, headphones, the rubik's cube he had never bothered to take out, his wallet, e-reader, and a slew of charging cords: basically what he always packed in a carry-on, just in case the airline lost his luggage. (In this case, however, it looked more like _he_ had lost _the airline_.) He was decently sure that there were a few pens in there somewhere as well. All of the devices were dead at the moment, solar charger included, so he couldn't actually _do_ much with them at the moment, but it was nice knowing they weren't in pieces.

He fiddled with the rubik's cube absentmindedly. Adri had given it to him nearly two years ago as a graduation present, demanding that he should solve it because he was a nerdy-type and she could never figure the 'cruddy color cube' out. That was honestly what she had called it. Ever since it had basically lived in his backpack. With a sigh he flicked a few sides, lining everything up, then noisily reshuffled it. Axel really hoped his sister wasn't freaking out that he wasn't back in München yet.

Or rather, that she wasn't _too_ freaked out. The freaking out part was probably non-negotiable.

It just didn't make any sense. He _should_ be back in München. He _had_ been. And yet, obviously, he was not. Last he checked people in Germany spoke German… or English, at least. Frequently both.

Not _neither_.

With a quiet grumble that sounded suspiciously like curses (from three languages, no less), Axel took his time sliding the segments of the rubik's cube back into order. Honesty the language barrier was the most frustrating part of this whole confusing fiasco. He could never be sure if he was understanding or being understood, and actually that fact seemed to be the only thing he _was_ sure of lately.

A few more minutes of mindless puzzle twiddling passed before a soft knock at the door told him he had a visitor. The doctor and teenager (who else could it have been, really) walked in without waiting for a reply. Kichirou, apparently very excited about something, was already talking before the door even opened all the way, leaving Axel with no time to mentally switch languages.

“Hey, man. Guess what we've sorted out?” Kichirou swung himself down into the room's only spare chair, looking inordinately pleased about something.

Dr. Kimura (or however that's phrased in Japanese, he should probably figure that out but he had always had issues with honorifics) stood to the side with a small smile and ignored the younger boy for a moment to ask, “How are you feeling today, Brandt-san?”

The pair of them talking in such quick succession did no favors for Axel's ability to understand.

“Yes,” he manages, intelligently.

Kichirou rolls his eyes, having become used to Axel's speaking skills—or, more to the point, the current lack thereof. “He's fine, Kimura-sensei. Let's get to the good stuff!”

To himself, and embarrassingly several days late, Axel noted that '-sensei' is the correct honorific-type-thing to stick on the end of the doctor's name. Teachers and doctors get that ending, at least. He can probably remember that one.

“I don't see why, given your eagerness, you haven't simply charged into the matter already.” The doctor walked closer and gave his patient a brief once-over, resting one hand lightly on Axel's cast and continuing after a thoughtful moment. “Though I _would_ prefer keeping you under watch until whatever has garbled your language faculties has passed, unfortunately my clinic simply isn't large enough to loan out a room to an otherwise healthy individual.”

Axel had caught barely any of that.

“So, since you can't stay here,” Kichirou barreled back into the conversation, “I figure you can use the spare room we have back home!”

Oh. _Oh_ … what?

“I… Wa— What?” Axel stuttered, managing to work out most of what was going on. “I couldn't… that's too much!”

The teen laughed, rocking back in his chair with a huge grin on his face. “Well, too bad so sad, man! Besides, I'm sure my dad'll be fine with it.”

“Wait… Dein— your Va—” He had to stop himself, needing to gather his linguistic wits before trying again. “Your father doesn't agree?”

“Haven't asked yet,” Kichirou replied with a shrug. “But I'm sure he'll find things for you to do to help out in the shop, maybe even the smithy, so he can't complain!”

Axel stared at him for a long moment before turning to Dr. Kim— or rather, turning to Kimura-sensei in confusion. It was true that he could probably help at least a little with blacksmithing (he liked to think he was pretty damn good at it, after all the things he had made for or sold in his university club) but this whole plan was progressing really quickly and with hardly any input on his end and, well, to be honest… he was a bit lost.

With a distinctly this-is-your-problem-not-mine shrug, the doctor pointed out, “It is not as if you have anywhere else to go, am I correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then it is decided.”

Slumping down into his pillow, Axel felt very much like he had no control over his life at all. Between the pushy tourists from the flight which may or may not have happened, the complete mystery that was how he ended up back in Japan, and now this… perhaps the feeling was justified.

However, even though he _apparently_ wasn't going to get any real say in the matter of lodging, Axel did manage to get a promise from Kichirou to bring his father over so they could at least meet in person _before_ he was made to live in the same building.

Of course, he hadn't expected said meeting to happen the same day. Clearly the teen was eager to get this plan rolling.

The introduction itself was a bit peculiar, with Kichirou making sure everyone knew everyone else's name, only for everyone just stand in awkward silence for a minute. Apparently the blacksmith was a man of few words, and of course Axel simply didn't _have_ many words to begin with. Hence everyone just staring at each other.

Morimoto Hiroshi—given name being Hiroshi with Morimoto as his family name: Axel had to remind himself that every time a name came up—was a large, muscled man who, for obvious reasons, had quite a lot in common with his son in the looks department. Both had the same coloring and even a similar hair style, though the father's was a bit longer and pulled back into a loose tail.

“There, now you've met!” Kichirou, mood almost uncomfortably (but genuinely) optimistic, nudged his father in an attempt to get him to speak up.

He didn't, just observing everyone silently.

Small talk, meet the least capable individual in this conversation. Begin.

“So zuerst…” A fantastic start, not even in the right language. Axel frowned and coughed once, as if that could temporarily clear the German from his tongue. It didn't even last for one sentence. “I am not good at speaking in… uh,” and, drawing a blank, he finished, “…japanisch. Offensichtlich.”

Morimoto—and Axel knew should stick on an honorific, but just using the last name would have to be polite enough for now—didn't look very surprised at the butchered sentence. He did shoot his son an understanding look, though, as if he had just made a connection to something he'd mentioned before. “Yeah, so I've been told.”

“I may or may not have said you sound like a crazy person,” the teen supplied, sounding wholly unconcerned.

Understanding the gist if not the exact phrasing, Axel summoned as much sarcasm as he could fit into the unfamiliar language and deadpanned, “Thanks.”

The blacksmith snorted, apparently finding their interaction amusing, and a smile found its way onto his typically stern face. With a decisive nod, he asserted, “You know what?— I like this guy. If he really does need a place to stay then he's welcome to borrow our guest room.”

And with that it was officially decided (apparently).

 

=X=X=X=

 

It was hot in the forge, as it always was when there was work to be done, fire dancing in the furnace. Charcoal dust drifted through the air and mixed with sand and dirt on the floor. Tools hung on their hooks over the worktable, metal made dark and worn by long use. A lone broken pair of pickup tongs lay to the side, where it had for several days now, waiting for someone to finally find the time to actually fix it.

Kichirou distractedly watched his dad maneuver glowing hot metal, actions careful and smooth with the confidence of long practice. A breath, and he plunged the steel into a vat of oil, a burst of flame flaring up orange and gold. Metal now quenched and hardened, he drew the unfinished kitchen knife from the bath, checking it for warping with a careful eye.

“Make sure it's kept vertical.” It was advice Dad had repeated probably a thousand times, every single time he walked through the process. One more wouldn't hurt. “Otherwise you'll need to reforge: bubbles around the metal can damage the form.”

Humming a distracted acknowledgment, Kichirou's attention flicked to the tangle of threads in his hands. He was _supposed_ to be braiding them into a cord, something to wrap the hilt with, but frankly it wasn't going too well. His mind just couldn't settle on the task at hand. Picking at the impressive knot he had inadvertently made, the teen tried again to focus.

But still his thoughts drifted. Asked. Wondered if he would be insulted. Either of them, really.

Settling the knife under a few hot coals—the heat would temper it further during the next hour or so—his dad stepped back from his work with a satisfied nod.

Kichirou decided waiting wouldn't help anyone. “Hey, so… Dad, I was, well…”

Sure, waiting wouldn't help anyone, but he couldn't quite find the right words.

Dad turned, waited. He knew how his son sometimes stumbled through sentences, having started them without any idea where to proceed after that point.

“He's just so… alone? Er, well, it's not like I _know_ —” he rambled, gesturing _just_ shy of wildly. The threads of the cord he was supposed to be weaving were like streamers to his energetic, if unfocused, rant.

“ _Kichirou_.” His dad rested a firm hand on his son's shoulder, gently but firmly cutting off the string of jumbled words. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath and refocusing, Kichirou asked, “Can we keep Axel-san?”

“…What?”

“I mean, _I've_ never had a brother, and I guess technically I've only known him for like a week…” Drifting off, Kichirou needed another moment to find the right words. “But he _fits_.”

His dad frowned thoughtfully, likely thinking back on his as-of-yet very brief interactions with the other man. There was so much about Axel's mannerisms, even beyond the accent and unfamiliar words, that set him apart, and yet talking to him was _easy_.

“I suppose so,” Dad allowed, after review.

Happy for the confirmation that he wasn't just imagining things, Kichirou burst out, “RIGHT. _And_ he knows blacksmithing. Might as well be part of the family already!” Then, with an energetic point between the two of them, he nearly tossed his half-braided cord across the room. He'd forgotten he was still holding it.

As the son fumbled with tangled strings, his dad had a sudden scheming look cross his face. “Have you, by chance, asked where he's from? Where he lives? From what I understand he doesn't have much.”

Setting aside his work before he could accidentally fling it into the furnace, Kichirou shrugged. “Yeah, just a bag of stuff Kimura-sensei couldn't figure out. He did mention something about getting home, though. Somewhere… I think he called it 'Tokyo'?”

“'Tokyo'.” Dad had clearly never heard of any town or village by that name either, certainly nowhere nearby. However, as he turned the word over in his mind, he seemed to think of something. “Perhaps he meant it as 'tō' and 'kyō', not a name by itself.”

“How does that help? There's no capital east of…” A thought struck, and Kichirou mused, “Well, except maybe Konoha. It's kinda like a capital, right?”

They had lived in Konoha once, years ago. He had been a baby at the time, so it's not as if he could really remember anything, but his dad had told him that they had run a small family smithy there. Then, well. They _were_ at war. An attack on the village had left their building one of very few in that district to survive, and business on an abandoned street just wasn't enough to provide for what was left of their family.

“Perhaps, if he _is_ from Konoha…” While Dad didn't finish the thought, Kichirou could still tell there was the beginnings of a plan somewhere in that sentence fragment.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Kichirou asked, “Just what're you planning?”

“It's need to know,” Dad replied, tone so perfectly serious it was clear he was joking. He shrugged, nonchalant about whatever he was scheming. “We'll see if he needs it first.”

For a moment the teen considered pressing for answers, but, knowing Dad, he'd probably just continue getting vague responses. “I'll ask him next time it comes up.”

“And even if he doesn't, maybe I'll still make the offer.” A smile, and then his dad just shrugged and turned back to tend the forge, adding a vague, “Who knows?”

As the conversation lulled into silence, Kichirou picked the unfinished cord back up, untangled what was left of the knot, then braided a few more strings. Another few minutes of quietly working, and he paused. Looked back up, feeling unexpectedly worried.

“Do… Do you think he'd mind if I call him 'Axel-nii'?”

“He'd better not,” Dad remarked with a shrug. “I expect my family to get along, after all.”

 

=X=X=X=

 

Family helps family, even when that family hasn’t even realized they’ve been claimed yet.

Which was why, over the next week and a half, Morimoto Hiroshi joined in as another regular visitor to the clinic. Admittedly, in the beginning it was mostly curiosity and his son’s nagging to drop in as a new conversational partner for the still-learning blond… but he quickly found himself honestly enjoying his visits.

Axel, for all his stumbling through sentences, was fun to talk to. _Easy_ to talk to, even despite the technical difficulties.

Of course the language thing would be dealt with eventually, with the entire Morimoto clan (of two) forcing speech practice whenever they dropped by. Hiroshi, by virtue of not being his son—a thus not a spazzy teenager with tendencies of abrupt topic changes—was certainly a more effective teacher than Kichirou.

The current topic in their impromptu lessons was writing, specifically hiragana (for now), and Hiroshi was going through them character-by-character. Axel could read well enough—a little better than he could speak, anyway—but writing was a different matter. Kimura had been the first to notice his patient’s linguistic challenges extended into the written word, having asked how to spell the blond’s name and having received… _unclear_ results. So here they were, Axel diligently trying to accurately copy the hiragana Hiroshi wrote for him.

 _Very_ diligently.

They had been at it for three hours already.

A small table had been set up in a corner of Axel’s clinic room for the sake of convenience, given that he wasn’t very good with the crutches he had been given. The two of them were sitting across from each other, the table between them filled with sheets of paper, some with example hiragana provided by Hiroshi and far more covered in Axel’s attempts to replicate them.

Hiroshi couldn’t help but grin when he spotted a few of the pages that had doodles on them instead of work. Before they had ended up on this marathon hiragana practice session, Axel had been using drawing to help fill in blanks as they talked about various things (but mostly blacksmithing, a subject they were both passionate about). The blond was actually pretty good at free-handing diagrams, but people?—not so much.

Right now Axel was just staring down at his latest try at the 'mu' character, looking rather displeased. His last three tries all looked remarkably similar, and consistently incorrect. Tired of his lack of significant progress, he pushed the paper away, accidentally bumping the table and nearly knocking over the crutches in the process.

As Axel scrambled to steady his teetering crutches, Hiroshi grabbed the practice sheet before it could slide past him. Checking over the latest scribbles, he remarked, “You’re getting better.”

“…Easy to be better than zero,” Axel replied.

Hiroshi shook his head, a bit peeved at the self-deprecating tone. “You sell yourself short.”

His protest was ignored as Axel began musing to himself, though he surprisingly didn’t slip into that strange rambling like he usually does when thinking aloud. “What I need is paper with… hmm.” The blond man paused in that way that meant he was searching for the right word and coming up empty. After considering, he came up with, “Squares.”

A moment later and Axel seemed to have an epiphany. An epiphany he apparently thought he should have figured out earlier, since he smacked a hand to his forehead.

“Kariertes Papier.”

Hiroshi snorted in amusement: there were the nonsensically harsh sounds he had expected.

Grabbing a blank sheet, Axel began drawing rows of carefully straight, thin lines. Then he drew another set that crossed the first, making a grid of near-perfect squares. Next he shuffled through the papers Hiroshi had written up, finally choosing one that had particularly large example hiragana. He boxed in one of them, tracing another grid on top of the character. Setting the two papers next to each other, Axel looked back and forth between them as he slowly copied the character. Mindful of the spacing for each stroke, thanks to the lines, his finished character looked much more like the original than his previous attempts.

“Prima!” Judging by his tone, it was clearly a happy cheer of some sort.

But Axel wasn’t done yet. He set up another, smaller grid that had less lines. Drawing the same character again with less guides, then for a third time, then a fourth, and each time he each used a less detailed grid. Eventually he’d forgo the grid entirely and still be able to draw the character.

In theory, at least.

Hiroshi watched with a slight smile.

The blacksmith had seen a lot in his life, having been forced to grow up during one shinobi war, having survived, only to then lose so much in another. The blond’s method might be new, but right now, sitting quietly with Axel, he was reminded of those years gone by: reminded of his own father teaching him and of him helping to teach his younger brother. The old emptiness in his heart ached, pulled tight by the unexpected reminiscence.

Like his son had pointed out: no matter how unexpected their meeting had been, he fits.

The melancholy Hiroshi had slid into didn't last long, however, as Axel rested his head on his hands and, defeated, simply stared down at his paper. His first attempt without the grid wasn't nearly as successful; the lines were rather unsteady.

“Sehr schnörkelig,” he muttered, with an edge of annoyance.

One quiet blink, then two, and then Hiroshi couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Yes, he reaffirmed to himself. This was someone he wouldn't mind calling 'family'.

 

=X=X=X=

 

Once his cast was finally removed (which happened much sooner than he had really been expecting), Axel only spent a few more days in the clinic before finally being discharged with a clear bill of health. He gathered what little he had with him into his backpack, Kichirou and his father met him outside, and together they led the way through the quaint rural village to their home.

“That's the grocers,” Kichirou said, pointing out a frankly adorable storefront with a few fruit and vegetable displays set up out front. The young woman working there sent them a cheery wave when she noticed them. “It's run by the Sasakis. They're pretty cool, and usually give Dad a good discount 'cause he helps repair stuff for them sometimes.”

Axel was paying the teen just enough attention to generally follow what he was saying; he was too distracted by the scenery. It was brisk out, spring having just barely sprung, but the sun hanging in the blue sky overhead was doing its level best to bring temperatures up. The road was hard packed dirt—dusty, but not too bad—and all the buildings had pale walls with fairly colorful roofs. There seemed to only be one major street, with a few small offshoots, but the town didn't exactly run in straight paths; that is to say, the buildings seemed to only use the road as a _very_ rough guideline.

Something about the architecture seemed familiar, like he'd seen pictures of it before, but Axel couldn't quite figure out what other setting the place reminded him of.

Large—wow, _really_ large sometimes—trees could be seen branching over the rooftops and down at the end of any turns that didn't end with a building, so the village must be in a densely forested area. With huge trees. He hadn't had the time to visit the Japanese countryside during his business trip—he had worked in Tokyo for most of his time there, though he had visited other major cities, before leaving (though he apparently hadn't _actually_ left)—but he hadn't really expected it to look like this. It didn't look much like how Studio Ghibli portrayed it in movies anyway. Then again, perhaps anime wasn't be the best source to base his expectations on.

Now that he'd thought it, yeah. Probably.

His observations were interrupted when he was forced to quickly step back, nearly overbalancing because of his heavy backpack, as a group of children barreled around the street corner. They were shouting and tossing little wooden knives at each other, pretending to be ninja as they ran and rolled away from the attacks. He noticed that they had even drawn symbols on strips of cloth tied around their foreheads.

“Oh, von _Naruto_ ,” he realized, having needed a moment to recognize the spiraled leaf design as the one from the anime his sister had recently made him start watching. “Are most of the kids here…” and again a word escaped him. “…They like the show?”

“What'd you say?” Kichirou called back from farther down the street. He was waiting outside one of the shorter buildings, noticeably built with more distance between it and its neighbors: fire safety, perhaps. Since Morimoto was unlocking the door, it was a safe guess that this was their house.

Axel shrugged it off, too lazy to repeat the question. “It's nothing.”

The lock released with a smooth click as he caught up to them, and the blacksmith pulled the door open to let his son and new guest inside. As is typical for Japanese homes, the entryway had a small shelf for shoes to be exchanged with slippers. Kichirou was already hopping on one foot as he struggled to remove one of his sandals.

“Come on, Axel-nii! I can't wait to show you the workshop!”

It had been one of the more frequent topics that had cropped up during their hospital conversations: the workshop, blacksmithing, and craftsmanship in general. While he might have had difficulties following an overly-excited Kichirou's dialog, Axel knew enough about the subject and could usually figure it out from context. At least, he could so long as the teen took the time to speak slow enough for him to tell the words apart.

“You'll be staying in my brother's old bedroom, though it, well, it hasn't been used in a while.” Morimoto gestured down the hall, pointing out an open door at the end. “Probably a bit dusty, though we did try to clean it up. Oh, and my boy called dibs on showing off the place, so he's probably going to ditch work to give you a tour as soon as you drop off your stuff.”

From somewhere else in the house there came a muffled sound that seemed to be a confirmation, and the blacksmith nodded to himself.

“I… Thank you very much,” Axel managed with an awkward nod-bow, not quite sure what would be appropriate.

“Don't thank me yet: I'll probably rope you into helping around the shop.” He smirked, and there was something in the expression that made Axel think the older man was planning something. “Anyway, make yourself at home! I'll be around if you need me.”

Morimoto headed off through one of the other doors, leaving Axel to slide his way down the hall: they didn't have a pair of spare house slippers yet, and socks plus polished hard-wood floor make for a very unsteady walking experience. Suffice to say he was glad the doors were the Western variety, since if they had been sliding doors he wouldn't have been able to grab at any doorknobs when he felt a step land poorly.

The room at the end of the hall— _his_ room, at least until he could figure out how to get back to Tokyo and catch a plane home _for real this time_ —had a bed, a small desk, and a closet. As he looked around, he was a bit miffed to notice that they didn't have any power outlets. Then again, the one he had spotted at the clinic didn't look like it would match with his plug (he had an adapter, but apparently this rural town just _had_ to be unique). It didn't really matter all that much, though, since the room _did_ have a window and there was a good amount of sunlight filtering through.

He unpacked his backpack, laying out most of his things on the mattress but already setting up the small solar charger in the rectangle of sunlight on the desk. Deciding to leave his laptop on the desk as well, Axel stuffed the other electronics away. There was also a packet of papers—notes from the writing lessons, along with some blank ones for practice. He set them beside his laptop with a sigh. While it _was_ true that he had gotten much better at writing, he still wasn't really… well.

One thing was certain, Axel had never been more thankful for the relative simplicity of the alphabet.

His jacket and his one change of clothes he stowed in the closet, since he would probably be staying here for a few days. While Kimura-sensei (the one honorific he could be counted on to remember) had let him leave the clinic, the man had made it quite clear that he didn't want Axel traveling across the country quite yet.

So yes, he had a few days. Maybe even a full week. And besides, he still needed to figure out how he was getting to Tokyo in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Right, so first of all, sorry for reposting this. I can't figure out how to get rid of the freaking 'work notes' thing doubling up at the end. I don't even know where it's pulling that from, since I've gone back to the first chapter, removed the note, put it back, deleted this chapter (as you might have noticed), and nothing works.  
> If you know what to do, please tell me. It's annoying me so— WAIT!  
> Ha-HAH! I have done it! You need to edit it from the listing on your profile, apparently. Welp. At least now I know. Sorry again.  
> Anyway...
> 
> Poor man, still hasn't realized. Though really, how long do you think it'd take you to puzzle it out if you were in his place? I, for one, would be far more inclined to thinking the disconnect of expectations to reality was my fault, not that I'd been knocked into a completely new world.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for reading! And to anyone who cares enough about this story to leave a kudos or come back for future chapters, I hope you continue to enjoy it!
> 
> Translations:  
> "So zuerst…" = "So first…"  
> "…japanisch. Offensichtlich." = "…Japanese. Obviously."  
> "Kariertes Papier." = "Graph paper."  
> "Prima!" = "Fantastic!"  
> "Sehr schnörkelig." = "Very squiggly."
> 
> See ya on the flip side, everyone!


	3. Little Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Axel, soon you'll see.

“How does I… nein, 'do I'.” Axel was much better after three weeks of having Japanese as the only option if he wanted to be understood, but some points still tripped him up since he wasn't familiar with every word or conjugation. “How do I get to Tokyo from here?”

Kichirou glanced up from the groceries he had been considering, looking very much like he had just been reminded of something. “Do you mean Konoha?” he asked, vaguely gesturing with an eggplant in what was presumably the right direction. “That's the largest city east of here.”

Axel hadn't known that the fictional hidden village from _Naruto_ had a real-life counterpart, but at least it sounded large enough to have trains or a phone or something. He just settled with an uncertain nod and wondered how frequently the local kids—who he had seen running around playing ninja nearly everyday—bugged parents to let them visit. “Uh… Yes? Maybe?”

“Are you from Konoha? You don't talk about yourself very much.” The teen dropped the purple vegetable into the bag Axel was carrying for him, moving over to look at the cabbages. Picking one up, Kichirou checked to see if it had any rotten bits; a few, but better than some of the others so he handed it over as well.

“What? No, no, I'm from München. You know, Munich. In Deutschland.” At Kichirou's blank look, he tried, “Germany? …Doitsu?”

“Sure, whatever.” The teen shrugged, tone making it clear that he wasn't really following his blond friend anymore. Instead he just held up a radish for Axel to help inspect. “Does this look good to you? I'm not sure about this bit here.”

Since he didn't know much about telling ripe vegetables from one-day-till-compost, Axel couldn't say for sure the discoloration wasn't a sign of rot or something. He took it and gave the questionable spot a poke. It didn't feel gooey, which was a good sign, so he added it to their groceries.

Despite the bags being uncomfortably full by this point, Kichirou seemed determined to stuff in a few more veggies. He had a tendency to over-pack, something Axel had noticed on a previous grocery run when the teen had spent several minutes rearranging things for maximum food-to-bag density.

After packing in as much food as possible, they finally made their way to the counter to pay. It was really lucky that the blacksmith family had been kind enough to temporarily take him in; he had no money worth anything here. In fact, he had exactly €2,35 and not a cent more. He hadn't so much as _seen_ any yen since waking up at the clinic, since he had stored what he had left in his checked bag to avoid carrying unnecessary coins through security. Interestingly enough, he hadn't seen any card readers either. So while he didn't enjoy feeling like a charity case, until he could find an ATM or something he was stuck on that point.

They spent a brief moment debating who would carry most of the bags back, as seemed to happen at the end of every shopping trip. And, just like those other times, Axel was ultimately left with one mostly-empty bag: it held only a single cabbage. The other things it had held had been carefully (and impressively) tetrised to the rest of the bags that Kichirou had insisted on carrying himself. Apparently, having just been released from the clinic, Axel was just _too fragile_ to be trusted with heavy groceries for the trip back home.

Axel shook his head and gave the overly-concerned teen half an eye-roll, but otherwise just went along with it.

“Anyway, Konoha's about a day's walk away,” Kichirou continued from the first question, one hand loaded down with all the bags as he led the way back to his house. “Or at least, it is when we're bringing in things to sell. There're plenty of signs at crossroads for merchants and travelers, so I wouldn't worry about getting lost.”

Axel snorted, the terms reminding him of fantasy stories and the medieval fairs his college club had taken trips to visit whenever classes had allowed.

“Of course, it only takes shino…” Kichirou drifted off, thinking. “Actually, I don't really know how fast they can make the trip. Pretty fast, I'd reckon.”

They reached the door before Axel could ask what a 'shino' was, and Kichirou awkwardly tried to fish out the keys from his pocket with one hand. After a moment of watching the younger boy flounder—the shopping bags swinging about unhelpfully—Axel grabbed his bags from him so he could open the door in peace.

“Hey, Dad! We're back!”

They took the grocery bags into the kitchen, but before they could start unloading their purchases, Morimoto walked in with an uncharacteristically annoyed expression aimed squarely at his son. Axel decided the best course of action was to let them handle whatever the issue was between themselves, and so he turned back to the less dramatic option of stocking the fridge with vegetables.

“Kichirou, I know they've been laying around for ages now, but didn't I tell you to _repair_ the broken pickup tongs?”

“Yeah?”

“That's what I thought.” Morimoto set down a pair of metal, definitely-not-broken pickup tongs onto the table with loud clang and a stern look. “Who did you even buy this from?”

The teen blinked at the tool in confusion. “I… What? I didn't buy that!”

His father crossed his arms. “You're good, but still learning. I know you didn't make this.”

“Well, yeah, I _was_ gonna fix them. Eventually.” He looked very confused. “I hadn't even really thought about them since Axel-nii moved in.”

He hadn't been following the conversation—it was going by just a bit too fast for him to easily listen in—but the sound of his name made Axel glance back over his shoulder. Spotting the tool on the table, he sheepishly grinned; it seems like he might have gotten Kichirou in some sort of trouble. “That was me. Sorry if using the… forge?— Sorry if using the forge was not okay.”

For a moment he wondered if he had said something horribly rude or incorrect—or horribly incorrectly, as the case may be—since both father and son just stared at him in surprise for a long moment.

“Did I say it wrong?” Axel asked, hesitantly closing the fridge and glancing back and forth between the two of them. Kichirou looked very much like the human version of a buffering video, but his father was just thoughtful. “Or… Was it really not okay? If so, sorry.”

“You really fixed this?”

Late yesterday afternoon, when both Morimotos had been out of the house doing who-knows-what and he had been left with basically nothing to do, Axel had come across the broken tool set out on the worktable. He had been meaning to ask for permission to use the forge at some point, but since the chance was so tantalizingly there and (as Axel had justified to himself) he _was_ capable enough not to make a mess of things… well, he figured it would be fine.

“Yes,” Axel answered, warily unsure if they were angry or not. “I wanted to be helping.”

Kichirou picked up the tongs, looking them over, and distractedly corrected, “You mean 'helpful'.”

“I hadn't thought I'd _ever_ see you fix someone else's grammar,” Morimoto remarked, chuckling to himself. “You're almost starting to sound like Kimura-sensei.”

The comparison had Kichirou dawn a sudden (and jokingly exaggerated) expression of horror, acting as if nothing could be worse than finding out he had done something similar to the old doctor. His father grabbed the tool back from him before he could drop it dramatically in fake shock, but it was a funny performance all the same.

When Kichirou turned to his blond friend for reassurance (presumably), Axel just nodded with a shrug.

“Now you're just being mean,” the teen huffed, though with no real heat behind it. While perhaps a little bit genuinely bothered by the comparison, Kichirou didn't _really_ mind all that much. Or at least, not so much that he'd stop smiling.

Secretly, Axel breathed a sigh of relief: the conversation had moved past his use of the smithy without permission and it didn't even look like they particularly cared about that in the first place.

So they continued talking about random things as they finished up putting away the groceries and the bags. Then, in spite of Axel's thoughts that the topic of his unapproved repair work had been resolved, both father and son teamed up to not-so-subtly steer him back into the workshop. Morimoto in particular seemed rather determined to get Axel to show that he could handle himself as a blacksmith, though Axel himself hadn't the faintest idea as to why.

The rest of the day was spent in the forge, Morimoto all but _testing_ Axel as he presented topic after question after tool and on and on. It was fun, if a bit tiring, and he enjoyed listening to an actual professional blacksmith talk about his chosen trade. Axel _had_ occasionally taken the things he had made—weapons, buckles, latches, ornaments, and so on—to sell at medieval recreation fairs, but that had mostly been because he had nothing else to do with those things. Hearing the perspective of someone who makes a living of smithing, rather than just doing it as a hobby, was pretty interesting.

When the impromptu… was it a test or a lesson?—finally finished and the evening drew to a close, everyone retreated back to their own rooms for some much needed rest. The day had taken a rather unexpectedly energetic turn when the whole blacksmithing topic had sprung.

Flipping open his laptop and typing in his password with a speed born of long familiarity, Axel then promptly… did nothing. Just sat there and stared silently at the desktop. He had discovered that there was no internet in this small town, as ridiculous as that might seem, as soon as he had turned his computer on for the first time after recharging: or at least, _he_ had no way of getting at the internet. When he had tried asking about it, he received only strange looks and uncomprehending shrugs—another casualty of his sub-par language skills, he supposed, even if he _had_ been improving.

He again lamented the loss of his cell phone: he might have had data here, at least. Enough to send a text message, surely.

God, his sister was going to be positively _furious_ with him.

Navigating through his computer files, he opened a document that he had been using to keep track of interesting or helpful smithing tricks as he learned them. He added a few of the tips Morimoto had mentioned, then scrolled through the long list to check that they hadn't already been in there somewhere.

When he realized he had reverted back to blankly staring at the screen, Axel decided he might as well just go to sleep. Soon he could head out to the non-fiction Konoha; he had to assume that, as a larger city than this adorable town, it would hopefully have a train station, an ATM, and maybe even an internet café (if he's lucky). He sorely needed to send off an email to his family to reassure them that, while a bit lost, he was alive and well.

Soon.

 

=X=X=X=

 

It had been a little over a month now.

Scratch _furious_ , his sister was going to straight up _kill him_ for all but dropping off the face of the planet. At least the day had finally come: they were packing up to head for Konoha.

Axel wasn't even all that sure how he had let so much time pass: the days had just slipped by, one after another, until it had been another full week and then some. He just fell into a comfortable rhythm, helping out around the store and working in the smithy and generally… settling. There was a soothing peace in the small town, regardless of the occasional inexplicable moments of tension in the otherwise relaxed community. Sometimes he felt like the town was on-edge or maybe even scared—waiting for bad news, an attack, _something_ —but since he couldn't figure out any real reason for why, he decided he must just be imagining it.

He had somehow lost track of (or hallucinated) a trip around the world, so it wasn't that farfetched.

“Axel-nii!” Kichirou called from the other side of the door, followed by a loud and _extremely_ unnecessary knock. Then, because announcing himself was apparently the only permission he needed, he let himself in.

Axel was stuffing his things into his backpack. Or at least, he was trying to. Morimoto had forcibly gifted him a few changes of hand-me-down clothes at the start of his stay, so now he couldn't quite fit everything. It's not as if he would need the extra clothing once he got home, but his attempt to return them only earned him a stern stare that brokered no arguments. So here he was, trying to cram everything away.

Maybe he could just hide the clothes in the room somewhere, tell no one, and skedaddle before the jig was up and Morimoto could chase him down with a sack of old shirts and pants. The blacksmith, counter to his gruff appearance, was remarkably fussy and protective of the people he cares for. Apparently Axel had somehow stumbled into that category during his stay.

Of course, the hide-and-run plan wouldn't even have a chance to work since Morimoto was coming with him to Konoha: knocking out two birds with one stone by both guiding Axel and bringing in a delivery of various goods. At least that was Axel's understanding—the older man had been oddly sneaky about the whole plan whenever asked about it.

It didn't help that he had been banned from helping Morimoto pack the cart, partly because of said sneakiness and partly because Axel's attempt to help had led to him accidentally dropping a box on his own still-recovering foot. The box had also, somehow, cut a new gash in his leg that then needed bandaging, so all in all…?

Really not his greatest moment.

“Dad thought you might need this,” Kichirou said from the doorway, bringing Axel from his musing by tossing him an empty bag. It looked just large enough to hold both the backpack and clothes.

Failing to catch the bag, it instead thwapped against his face. At least Kichirou got a chuckle out of it.

“Ah, thank.” Axel shook the bag out and looked it over. It was made of a sturdy dark-blue fabric and had a drawstring that doubled as a shoulder strap, with one end around the opening and the other attached at the bottom. “This helps a lot.”

Kichirou pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down tailor style, cross-legged despite not sitting on the ground. “No big! I know my old man's being pushy, but you don't need to feel bad about keeping them. He just wants to help, since you don't have much.”

“But I don't need—”

“So you say, but he's unconvinced.” The teen shrugged and, with a lopsided smile that suggested he wasn't too convinced himself, changed the topic. “Oh, he also wanted to ask if your legs are alright. It's not really a hard trip, but you'll still need to walk for most of the day.”

Blue satchel now full of all his worldly possessions, Axel sat down on his— rather, on _what had been_ his bed. He could admit that it hadn't been his brightest moment, trying to move one of the heavy boxes Morimoto was planning on taking to Konoha. Apparently the advice to lift with your legs is less helpful when said legs had been recently broken and still healing. Nothing newly snapped, thank goodness, but he had a fresh bruise on his foot and a new bandaged cut on his apparently-still-unsteady leg to show for his mistake.

Axel lightly checked over his latest injury, concluding, “Should be fine. Lot's of stops, right?”

“Better be. Don't hurt yourself, man.” Kichirou scuffed a foot against the floor, slowly looking around the cleaned-out room he had begun to think of as _Axel's_.

For a moment the two of them sat quietly, eyes scanning over the bare desk, the bed and its mattress left with no bedsheets, the open closet, floor to ceiling. Even the recently emptied trashcan.

Kichirou, apparently deciding the mood had gotten a bit _too_ depressing, shoved aside his frown with an only somewhat forced smile and eagerly (though kind of abruptly) restarted the conversation. “Anyway, _Konoha_! I haven't been since I was super young, so I don't remember much.”

Eyes scanning over the now-empty room, Axel refocused on his younger friend. “Why not visit more?”

“Eh, it's a lot of work.” With a shrug, the teen added, “Plus, things have been pretty… tense lately.”

Before Kichirou could say anything else, they both heard his father shout for them through the walls from outside; he was apparently done with his own packing. Casting one last look around the room as a yelled conversation passed faster than he could follow, Axel decided he was also done. It was well and truly time to head out.

The door clicked quietly shut behind him, closing off what had temporarily been his. Compared to when he had first seen it, the room he left behind was at least more clean and tidy.

And empty.

One month: that's as long as he had known them. Just a single, short month, but somehow… it almost felt _unreal_ to be leaving. Like he was staring at a sentence and recognizing none of the words. Or, far more literally, like how he had felt leaving for Japan all those months ago, in the airport waving goodbye, soon to be on the opposite side of the world from his sister and his parents and everything familiar.

Now, as he walked down the hall, he saw that these past few weeks had become familiar in their own way.

Kichirou and his father had pretty openly welcomed him into their small clan of two, and he couldn't help but feel that, had he been able to introduce them to his own family, they would have fit together like metal in a mold. Knowing his sister, Adri and Kichirou would have been fast friends: both having similarly energetic, this-is-neat-so-time-to-rant-for-ages personalities. To be honest, he felt a bit like he'd accidentally acquired another younger sibling.

Though it would probably be more accurate to say Kichirou acquired him.

Beyond and beside their friendship, however… Axel owed them, plain and simple. They had helped him— _housed_ him—when he could barely speak their language, for goodness sake! They're good people, that's for sure, and Axel was glad that circumstances led him to them. Strangeness of those circumstances notwithstanding.

Goodbyes are always a bit bittersweet.

And yes, he was definitely going to miss them.

But Axel was glad to be heading home.

Morimoto was waiting near the front door, leaning back against a wooden pull-cart that he had loaded up with crates of who knows what. It was quite impressive, since some of the boxes looked like they were only saying in place by the grace of a _lot_ of rope. And an unsafe amount of good faith. One of the two wheels creaked loudly and for no apparent reason.

When he had tried to help out earlier, this was not the finished, fully-packed result he had been expecting. Mainly because it _wasn't_ fully-packed: it was rather drastically _over_ -packed

“Will that be… okay?” Axel asked, internally debating whether or not the cart would be able to carry his bag despite already looking (and sounding) overburdened.

“It'll be fine,” the blacksmith said, slapping the side of one of the crates as if to prove a point. The was another wooden groan, followed by a metallic clack as something the the pile of stuff shifted. “Perfect.”

That obviously didn't do much for Axel's confidence. Even Kichirou was giving the stacked crates a skeptical look.

“I bet I could have fit more stuff.”

Okay, then. The teen was clearly as blind to packing-logic as his father. Or, thinking back to the groceries, perhaps this is a simple case of 'like father, like son'.

Looking more closely at the stacks of crates and stuff, it seemed significantly more stable than he had first thought. Tugging at one of the ropes in order to gently test the cart, Axel elected to just ignore the escalating challenges of who could out-pack who going on the the background; he idly wondered if they had ever played Tetris, because the competition they'd get into would be _intense_.

He actually found a small area where he _could_ store his bag if he wanted, but considering it held a number of electronics that he certainly didn't want getting accidentally crushed by whatever was in the boxes, well… he decided to just carry it.

“Oh, hey… um, Axel-nii?” Since his voice wasn't quite enough to catch Axel's attention—distracted as he was by packing and travel logistics—Kichirou poked him. “You'll keep in contact, right?”

“'Contact'?” Axel repeated, the word failing to come up in his mental dictionary, despite how much it had improved.

“Yeah, you know… send letters, write back, maybe visit sometime?”

“Sure, I could write back. Maybe.” Thinking back to the hiragana lessons, he added, “But could you read it?”

From Morimoto's direction there was a snort that sounded suspiciously like a cut-off laugh.

Kichirou just smiled. “I'm sure we can manage.”

Axel was going to say more—even though he hadn't quite figured out what that 'more' was just yet—but he was interrupted before he could make a fool of himself stringing together nonsense words. He had been cut off by a rather loud wooden groan of protest, as Morimoto had walked to the front of his teetering cart and experimentally pulled it forward about half a meter.

It didn't fall apart, which was a good sign. Even if it sounded a light breeze from collapse.

“Will _you_ be okay?” Axel asked. The cart and its, shall we say, _optimistic_ stack of boxes was clearly not going to be argued away, but _someone_ was still going to need to pull that probably-heavy burden. “Maybe we should take turns pulling—”

Kichirou was quick to put a stop to that barely-even-voiced idea. “Are you kidding?”

“I'll be fine,” added Morimoto, looking as if he'd be tempted to roll his eyes if he was any less mature. “Besides, you _just_ hurt yourself when you were trying to help pack earlier.”

That couldn't really be argued, but that didn't mean Axel had to like it. Putting it that way made him sound rather inept. “Why do you need to bring all this?”

The older man got a peculiarly shifty look in his eyes. “I was hoping we might be able to reestablish old business, you know. One way or another.”

“Dad!” Kichirou all but groaned in annoyance. “That doesn't—” The teen suddenly stopped, realized something, then adopted an expression that very much suggested he had just been let in on a great scheme.

“Doesn't what? _What_?” asked Axel, looking between the two of them in growing curiosity and, if he was being honest, slight trepidation. A feeling like he might be the butt of some yet-to-be-sprung joke, based on a sense developed over many years with a younger sister trying to catch him by surprise.

“Nothing,” the teen said, quick to wave off the questions now that he had apparently figured it out. “You'll see eventually.”

Which apparently means that 'eventually' would come along this evening, since he imagined that he'd get his answers as soon as they arrive in Konoha.

A few more last-minute checks to make sure they had everything, and then finally it was time to say their goodbyes. After promising again to stay in contact—just as soon as he got an actual address or number or whatever—Axel and Morimoto set off on their long day's walk. Kichirou, who had followed them to the edge of town, waved until they were out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> I bet you can guess what's gonna happen next chapter. He might be a bit in denial, but it's pretty dang hard to deny yourself out of seeing an entire city.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Just as a heads-up, next month's chapter (on the 15th, as usual) will likely be on the short side. This is because I'm currently on a trip traveling about Europe. Super fun, and even more tiring. Also, since I'm on said trip as I'm writing this, there might be a bit more errors in my writing: didn't have as much time to edit. Sorry, and please tell me if you spot any!  
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this story so far! There is no better feeling than knowing someone has enjoyed the work you've created. If you have thoughts, ideas, corrections, or whatever, feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	4. Somewhat Larger Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can handle it. Maybe.

Walking for extended periods of time is tiring; anyone who has spent hours tourist-ing through a city or wandering around a museum knows that.

It turns out that walking for a whole day, just to travel from point A to point B, is an _entirely new level_ of exhaustion. There's an added level of monotony and boredom and this-needs-to-be-done that weighs the experience down—in addition to the actual weight of his bag, which really wasn't heavy if he compared it to the overburdened cart Morimoto was stuck with.

Even though the older man didn't seem to be having any issues with it.

“Are you sure you don't want me to help with—”

“It's fine, Axel.” Even though Morimoto was preoccupied making sure the cart would stay in place during their well-earned snack break, he still found the time to shoot the blond a quick look. “Just like the last time you asked.”

Clearing off a fallen log to use as a seat—the only task deemed safe enough to be relegated to him—Axel grumbled back, “No breaking yourself.”

Morimoto wedged a rock under each of the wheels, waited to see if it would keep rolling, then decided it seemed to be enough to keep it in place. With a satisfied nod, he replied, “I appreciate your unnecessary concern.”

Axel sat himself down, one hand distractedly rubbing at his latest bandages. And what a thought that was: he wasn't used to being injured frequently enough to have need of classifying a cut as 'latest'. Trying to be gentle, he did his best to work out any new pain in his leg from all the walking. It was frustrating that he shouldn't actively help with the heavy lifting, since his bruised and broken bones were not yet back to full strength. His earlier attempt had, after all, resulted in a fumble and a brand new cut.

“'Unnecessary',” Axel scoffed quietly, pointedly tapping on his injured leg as he half-heartedly grumbled to himself. “Erzähle das meinem Bein.”

Even though he hadn't been able to hear most of what the blond man had said—and, of course, what he _had_ heard sounded like nonsense—Morimoto could easily get the gist of it from the snarky tone. “I've made it this far, haven't I? Besides, after this last rise it should all be a bit downhill.”

Eyeing the sky and sorely missing the ease of just checking his phone clock—or his wristwatch, which he honestly wasn't sure what had happened to—Axel tried to gauge how long they had been walking. There was just the barest hint of warmer colors in the blue stretching overhead, so he'd say very close to the whole day. It was tricky, given that he couldn't actually see the position of the sun because of the trees, but he thought that they probably only had an hour or so of sunlight left. “Soon, then?”

“With any luck,” Morimoto replied, taking a seat on the log as well. He held out a box with some of those onigiri rice-ball things, offering a late snack to tide them over until dinner. “You can probably get a good view from the top of this hill, actually.”

Gratefully taking one of the onigiri, Axel munched on it as he looked up and down the road they were traveling on. It was a fairly broad dirt path, packed down by years of travelers but still dusty enough to flick up dirt in a breeze. The forest lining each side of the road was full of tall, sturdy trees: many with branches that looked strong enough the stand on. Given the dense tree cover, he had to assume there would be a gap of some sort in order to get the view Morimoto was talking about. Any added height from the slight incline of the road wouldn't help much, otherwise.

Axel swallowed another mouthful of tasty rice before asking, “Is there a… uh, hole? I mean, a clearing?”

“Not so much a 'clearing' as a 'crater', at least last I saw.” The older man shrugged, taking a drink from his canteen of water before continuing, “Usually they try to keep things like that in the training fields, but you know how they can be sometimes. I just just hope they make sure us civilians don't get caught up in anything.”

Which, as an answer, really only brought up more questions. For example, Axel had no idea who 'they' were or why they might be randomly making craters. Or, to be honest, _how_ they might be randomly making craters. After all, a crater has to come from somewhere, and that somewhere is typically explosive. Which in this case, according to the remark about training fields, means that that particular explosion was at a _legal_ somewhere.

As if blowing up the local forest was just part of the norm.

Axel couldn't help but wonder what kind of village would just have explosion craters near the city limits.

Then, briefly, a ghost of a thought brushed against his mind, whispering that it was only natural for _Konoha_ to have blast craters around its perimeter. It was honestly to be expected.

Of course, that would be in _fiction_ Konoha.

For some reason… that thought wasn't very reassuring.

They sat there snacking for a few minutes longer, enjoying a companionable silence as they watched the sky shift into the warmer colors of oncoming sunset. It was quiet, peaceful; certainly not indicative of any potential fiery destruction happening in the immediate area.

Which, if the anime his sister had made him watch were to be trusted, fiery destruction was _exactly_ what would happen.

He paused mid-bite on his second onigiri, _almost_ jokingly listening for any sign of—

There was an odd sound of metal hitting wood, like an arrow on target at an archery range.

Then three pitches humming slightly out of tune, growing louder and more dissonant.

A snapping _pop_.

And a resounding _BANG_.

Air—warmer than a natural gust would have been, but by no means scorching—rushed through the trees and did its level best to knock them off the log as it swept up from behind. Even startled, Morimoto had the wherewithal to brace himself and snatch the box of onigiri before it could topple to the ground. The cart, luckily, seemed too heavy to budge just because of a little forceful wind. As for Axel, well. In his defense, he wasn't fully recovered yet.

He would also claim that his surprised yelp was _very_ manly. Naturally.

In short, he _didn't_ stay on the log.

At least he didn't fall on his face: he just sort of… slid (flailed) off to the side and onto the ground.

“Fantastisch,” Axel grumbled, though a part of him had to appreciate how silly he probably looked. He flopped over so that he was staring through tree branches at the now orange-tinted sky.

“I'm so sorry!” Someone was calling out perfuse apologies: strange how the voice sounded almost like it was coming from up in the trees rather than the ground. There was a thud, like a landing perhaps, and whoever it was continued. “Is everything alright? I heard a yell, and— Oh!”

Suddenly Axel's view of the sky was cut of by a sheepishly grinning blond, long sunshine-yellow hair framing a sincerely apologetic expression. In greeting, Axel blinked and managed, “Uhm. Hi…?”

“Hello,” the other man replied, offering a hand to help him stand back up. “Sorry again, I rushed out to try an idea I had for a new seal and, well… I must have miscalculated.”

Which was a sentence with words that Axel was pretty sure he understood, but he still didn't really grasp what they meant. So he decided to ignore that in favor of bigger questions. For example: “Who are you?”

A blink, and then a slight embarrassed blush. “Oh, sorry, I— Yes. My name's Namikaze Minato.”

…That _name_.

Axel _knew_ that name. He'd heard it before.

Somewhere.

Even the man's _face_ looked familiar, now that he thought about it. Long blond hair, cut shorter in the back than the front, fell loose around a friendly face. He was a bit frazzled and dusty—logical, since he had been much closer to his explosive mistake—but he didn't seem to care that his plain brown shirt and gray pants had a few extra shades thrown in courtesy of scattered dirt.

For some reason, Axel had expected him to be wearing white and forest-green. No idea why.

“Morimoto Hiroshi,” the blacksmith provided, seeing that Axel was thoroughly distracted by something. He pointed to his horizontal companion. “And this is someone who'd likely be better served running his own introduction.”

Intrigued by the peculiarity of that suggestion, Minato asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Axel, pulled from his fruitless attempt to place the newcomer's name, finally took the offered hand gratefully (if not gracefully) and was helped up off the ground.

“His name's a bit… well…” Morimoto paused mid-answer, struggling to find the right word.

Stood upright as opposed to laying in a heap in the dirt, Axel decided to just dust himself off and get on with it: his name would serve as its own explanation. “Brandt Axel.”

“What?”

“My name,” Axel clarified, grinning. “I'm Brandt Axel.”

“…Ah, yes. I see.” Minato nodded, faux solemnity outed as fake by the humor in his blue eyes. “All is clear now, Morimoto-san.”

The light-hearted snark earned a snort from the older man, who wholly agreed with the sentiment. Cheerily grumbling to himself—though it was more of a purposeful stage whisper, really—he turned from the pair of blonds to check that the gust of wind hadn't dislodged anything from the precarious stacks in his cart.

Minato was quietly mouthing words to himself, likely trying to figure out the strange name.

“I'm no good with name…s.” Axel had needed a moment to recall the plural, but quickly pressed on. “So, because I'm no good, you can call me any. I mean either. Axel, if you want.”

“More like 'if you can',” called Morimoto. “It looks good over here, by the way. Shall we get moving?”

As he watched them gather up their things, shifting from one foot to another in that uncertain way that suggested he wanted to help but didn't know if he really should, Minato asked, “Heading in to Konoha?”

The blacksmith nodded, somewhat distracted, then kicked the stoppers out from under the cart wheels. It rolled back maybe a few centimeters before he caught the handles and held it in place. “That's right. Got a whole buncha' stuff to sell.”

“Oh!” Minato was at the front of the cart in a near instant. “Here, let me! I should probably head back anyway, if I'm so tired that my mistakes have turned _explosive_. I _knew_ I should've checked my figures before rushing out, but too late now.”

Still staring at where the other man had stood just a moment earlier, Axel slowly turned to find him taking over cart-pulling duty. He blinked, mentally measuring the distance and wondering if perhaps he had hit his head when he fell off the log: hadn't even noticed Minato moving until he was already gone.

The traveling duo-turned-trio started off up the hill at a much faster pace than they had previously managed, since apparently Minato barely noticed the heavy load he was now stuck pulling along. Morimoto was walking by the cart itself, keeping an eye on the cargo, while Axel trailed a few meters behind.

At the new speed, they crested the hill in no time. It was much brighter there, the dim sunset light near blinding when compared to the shady forest, and Axel had to take a moment to shield his eyes and wait for them to adjust. From what he could make out of the nearby trees, it really _did_ look like something had blown up here and cleared space.

Then, still blinking, he looked out.

And froze.

As promised, the rather out-of-place gap in the trees let them see down over the village. Colorful rooftops—orange or burnt red, typically—topped nearly every building lined along the village's internal roads. He couldn't actually see the streets, but he could still see people: small figures zipping from roof to roof. A mountain, carved with the images of three massive faces, stood tall at the village border.

It wasn't a perfect view, by any means—tree branches crowded in along the edges and vibrant green leaves blocked a good deal of the mountain, in particular—but it was certainly more than they could make out otherwise.

“Gott im Himmel,” he breathed. Then, in Japanese even more hesitant than it had been a month ago, quietly added, “I really _am_ crazy.”

Because it was _Konoha_.

As in, it was actual _fiction Konoha_.

Granted, he hadn't seen the show for a few months now. And granted, there are obviously differences between how something appears in a stylized drawing versus real life.

But.

But—impossibly, crazily… _it was Konoha_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Keep yourself together, Axel. You can do it. Just, ya know, accept that your entire world has become an anime with crazily super-powered ninja and you'll be fine. No biggie.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> So as a status update, my trip around Europe is finally do and I'm back in America! This means that updates will be later than usual (or on the 16th, if I'm extra late and you're in the other half of the world), but doesn't really change much else. The next chapter is also likely to be short due to the trip, moving into my apartment, and university starting next week… but hopefully once everything settles, chapters will settle as well.  
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who comments or leaves a kudos or simply reads and enjoys!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Erzähle das meinem Bein." = "Tell that to my leg."  
> "Fantastisch." = "Fantastic."  
> "Gott im Himmel." = "God in heaven."
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	5. Welcome to the Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no turning back now, Axel.  
> (Not that there ever was, really.)

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Axel couldn't believe it.

"It's been a while, but it's just as striking as I remember."

The ground felt unsteady under his feet, and everything around him felt… too real. Fake.

It must be. It _couldn't_ be real.

A dream, he thought. This must all be a dream.

"—do you think, A—?"

Someone was speaking, but he couldn't… couldn't _focus_ when the world had gone sideways!

"—el? Hey—"

He could see the world—the village and the trees and the people—but his mind refused it, too shocked to be able to accept reality as it was. And while he could feel that he was standing upright, all but frozen in place, at the same time it felt like everything was spinning. Axel tried to concentrate on his breathing: in, and out. In, and out. Simple.

It should be simple.

 _Focus_.

"Brandt-san?" The voice—newly familiar, not Morimoto—sounded like it was coming from far away, but the sound of his name helped to ground his shattering perception of reality. Footsteps, maybe, and then a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. "Are you feeling well?"

How could he possibly be?

How could he ever be again?

"F-fine," Axel managed, but his accent was heavy with the confusion he was feeling. His voice sounded weak and unconvincing, even to himself. Not that he was really trying to convince himself that everything was alright. He knew where he stood on that front, because he _didn't_ know where he stood in _literally every other sense of the phrase_.

He was just so lost.

But he needed to pull himself together, and fast. If that village was truly one and the same as the fictional hidden village from the show—well, _ninja_. Enough said.

Blinking and giving himself a stern mental shake, Axel turned his attention to the concerned voice and its attached hand on his shoulder. His own blue eyes met another pair of worried blue, and he was surprised to find it had been Minato who had reached out to him, cart left unmanned a meter or so away. It made sense, of course. To be worried, that is. Perfect sense. He wasn't quite sure _why_ he was so surprised, given there were only two people with him so really it had to be one of…

And now his fellow blond was giving him a highly skeptical look, single brow raised in concerned disbelief; Axel's one-word, clearly uninspiring attempt at reassurance falling flat in the wake of his distracted silent staring.

But it was Morimoto, watching with concern from where he stood minding the cart, who drily remarked, "Sure you are. Unresponsively staring out into nothing for nearly two straight minutes is perfectly normal."

Correctly guessing what 'unresponsively' meant by context, Axel couldn't do much but shrug. He could tell that if he tried to talk too much it'd likely just come out a stuttering mess. Or in German, which would be colossally unhelpful. Thus, more silence.

Silence which was, thankfully, filled by Minato as he lightly joked, "Don't worry, I'm sure Brandt-san was simply struck speechless by the view."

Axel paused, brain latching on to the more handleable surprise and choosing to blatantly ignore (for the moment) the world-shattering discovery of _ninja-anime-is-real-life-now_. "Did you… you said it right?"

"Said what— Oh!" Minato smiled, face lighting up happily. "So I _did_ pronounce your name correctly. I wasn't sure, especially since there wasn't much of a reaction earlier…"

Not much of a reaction, indeed. The dimensionally-misplaced man had been much too busy reeling at his reality toppling down to pay too much attention. Now, though, he was using the unexpectedly correct pronunciation as a distraction. He _needed_ a distraction. At least until he got somewhere safe where he could properly fall apart and sleep, hoping to wake up somewhere _logical_.

He doubted he would. It's already been a month.

_It's already been—_

Ignore that thought, continue on.

"Ja," he confirmed, swallowing past his panic. "Yeah. Überras— er… Surprising, that's all."

Morimoto nodded in agreement. "It took me over a week to finally get it right, and _way_ longer for his given name. I swear, it's a tongue-twister and a half."

"That bad?" Minato had an expression that rather distinctly reminded Axel of the 'challenge accepted' face, crossed arms and all. Very deliberately, he sounded out, "Ax-el. Axel-san."

"Well, I'll be darned," muttered Morimoto, expression a mix of disgruntled and impressed.

After his own brief moment of surprise, Axel felt he had to insist, "No '-san'." Feeling self-conscious about his own honorifics-usage short-comings, he gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. "I have problems with, uh, with using the end things. If I don't— _can't_ —you shouldn't need to."

Looking a little curious and a lot unsure about dropping honorifics altogether, Minato nonetheless nodded. "If you're sure, Axel." He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to what he just said, then observed, "You know, it's a bit weird but… it actually _does_ sound better for your name without it. Huh."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

Axel laughed nervously, turning to look anywhere else but at the two of them. Unfortunately his gaze slid back to the village and landed on the three gigantic faces on the mountainside.

Three. _Only_ three.

The part of his brain that wasn't still scrambling for anything—literally anything—to distract himself with noted that that should mean something to him. That there was something important about the fourth face that should be carved up there, stonily watching over the village he had saved from—

Oh sweet merciful heavens.

The fourth Hokage. Naruto. The Nine-Tailed Fox attack.

It hadn't happened yet.

He only noticed that he had frozen up again when Minato once more called his name in concern. Blinking himself back from his spiraling thoughts, Axel was again struck by that sense of recognition when he looked at the worried ninja. And yes, he belatedly realized, the other man _definitely_ had to be a ninja.

"Sorry, I was…" Axel gulped, having no clue how to explain without actually explaining; it sounded insane in his head, so putting it out in words would probably be down right lunacy. "Just. Realized something."

Minato still looked pretty concerned, but he did step back to give him some space. "Are you sure that's it? You look like you, I don't know, saw a ghost or something."

"A ghost," he echoed, voice small as his eyes flicked back to the empty space on the mountain.

In the village below, life went on its merry way. They were standing close enough that there was a sort of quiet clamor of the sounds of people shopping and selling and walking and talking and _living_. Occasionally one of the crowd would break off and casually disregard physics by running up or along the colorful walls of the buildings. Axel watched a pair of small figures jump to a rooftop, seem to have a brief argument, then vanish in opposite directions so quickly that it was obvious why, in animation, it's just a blur of lines.

Well, it's certainly not animation anymore.

 

=X=X=X=

 

It looked like Axel was having a bit of an existential crisis.

Morimoto Hiroshi didn't really know _why_ Axel would be so suddenly unsteady—as if the world was pulled out from under him—and he certainly did _not_ like it. He especially didn't like how _empty_ Axel had sounded, repeating those two words to himself. Or how empty he had _looked_ —blue eyes disbelieving and so, _so_ lost—when they had just looked out over the village.

Axel said he had only realized something.

To himself, Hiroshi wondered what realization could shake the young man down to his very core with only a glance.

However, much as he'd love to get answers right away, he would need to pester him about that later: Axel looked a gentle breeze away from collapsing right where he stood. At least Namikaze-san had seemed to pick up on that as well, since he offered a shoulder of support that Axel automatically latched onto with a murmured phrase that was probably thanks.

"We should get going," Hiroshi said, his gruff tone not doing much to disguise his worry. "You might just need some rest, and you're not getting that on the road, Axel." He sighed. "Maybe it was a bit soon for such a long trip."

After all, the good doctor had never figured out what had garbled Axel's language skills so throughly. In all likelihood, whatever it was that had messed with his speech could have done worse; sometimes what the man said, while technically understandable, was just nonsensical. Especially whenever he talked about his life before he had somehow wound up half-dead off the side of the road. Head injuries could do strange things, and doubly so if shinobi were involved.

Perhaps seeing Konoha had simply… knocked something loose.

Glad that the rest of the trip would be both short and mostly downhill, Hiroshi took up position at the front of his heavy cart and began to tug it forward. He could feel Namikaze-san's gaze on his back, clearly concerned, but the shinobi apparently decided that Axel needed more assistance because he moved to help him stay steady.

"So… where are you two from?" Namikaze-san asked a few minutes later, just to make conversation. The question was followed rather quickly by apologies. "Sorry, I mean, uh, well," he floundered, trying to fix what he clearly thought had been the wrong thing to say.

Hiroshi spared him his stammered attempt at maybe-apology, distractedly answering over his shoulder, "Chotto, just about a day's walk away."

Slowing briefly to look back, a joke about his hometown's frankly uninspired name (a small town called 'small'—how clever) just waiting to be… the joke died in his throat. He could see why Namikaze-san had immediately tripped over himself with apologies. Hell, the look in Axel's eyes, all the more blue when set wide against shock-pale skin, nearly made the blacksmith stop in his tracks. He had seen that expression before, on the face of a friend standing outside what remained of his home, less than rubble, as the reality sunk in little by little.

Axel had somehow lost everything, just by looking out over the village.

Hiroshi promised himself that he would get the answers he wanted—that he _needed_. After all, family held each other together, through thick and thin. Not knowing _why_ the blond was hurting, what he had lost… Hiroshi wanted to help, but he couldn't if he didn't know what had broken.

 

=X=X=X=

 

Foot well and truly introduced to his mouth, courtesy of what he had thought to be a harmless question, Minato tried his awkward level-best to right the conversation.

"Chotto… Oh, I think I've been through there," he replied, perhaps just a hair too quickly. Hopefully the cadence of small-talk might help Axel (no honorific, he reminded himself) to keep a grip, despite whatever it was that had thrown him so badly. "My first mission after making chunin, I, well… I forgot to pack bandages and had to pick up some up from the clinic there."

They managed to keep a fairly steady stream of lighthearted banter going for some time—even earning a few distracted chuckles from the still shell-shocked blond—and soon enough they arrived at the village's western-most gate. The green doors stood wide and unobstructed, save for a pair of shinobi keeping watch and what looked to be a jonin with a trio of tired genin.

Or rather, two tired genin and one small, exuberant green beast.

Minato smiled, giving the almost impossibly driven genin a small, one-handed wave. Maito Gai was, well… he was an experience all his own. And apparently, he was an experience barreling straight toward them. An odd sort of confused recognition flickered through Axel's eyes when he spotted the seven-year-old genin charging their way.

Morimoto-san cautiously maneuvered the cart more to the side of the road, making sure he wasn't in the path of the almost preternaturally energetic boy. He chuckled softly: likely at Axel's expense. This was promising to be an amusing encounter. Especially since Axel was _still_ gaping like a fish out of water.

Then, rather abruptly, his fellow blond smacked one hand to his forehead. Minato thought he overheard him murmur, with a hushed sort of disbelief, that the world must be joking at this point. Or at least, that was the sentiment dripping from each indiscernible word of nonsense.

"Hello, Gai," Minato greeted, quite familiar with this particular bombastic genin thanks to his own stoic and anti-social student. "Just back from a mission?"

Whispering quietly, Axel confusedly asked himself, "'Gai'? Nicht Lee? Aber dann—"

Any other strange words Axel said were soundly drowned out by Gai's energetic hello. "The first of what is sure to be a shining career, Minato-sensei!" he declared with a thumbs-up and a sparkling smile. "And what luck to meet you here!— I must find my _Eternal Rival_ to tell him! Do you know where he is!?"

"Not at the moment, no." The jonin could make a few guesses, but he'd been in the forest for some time. All day actually: he had rushed out before breakfast with an idea he just had to test out.

For a moment Gai looked slightly less (hyper?) energized, but it passed quickly when he rather abruptly noticed that there were two blonds standing before him, not just one.

"A new face! Today is truly overflowing with youthful good fortune!" Gai gave another one of his literally shining smiles and struck a dramatic pose before introducing himself. "Hello! My name is Maito Gai, genin of Konoha!"

A recent promotion, Minato knew, but a genin all the same. The boy's team was slowly making their way over as well, now that it had become clear that Gai wouldn't be heading back with them soon without someone pulling him away.

Axel nodded, understandably overwhelmed. While Minato might not know why seeing the village could have struck the other man dumb, Gai's particular brand of… _youth_ was more than enough to shock anyone into silence.

When Axel made no move to introduce himself, Gai spun into another somehow-even-more-dramatic pose; he decided to take the direct approach: "What is your name?"

"Woah, Gai, give the man some space!" called one of the green beast's teammates: a slightly older boy named Shiranui Genma, if Minato recalled rightly. He pointed towards Gai's hand, and funnily enough the senbon in his mouth wiggled as if it, too, were gesturing. "Your finger's only, like, less than a handspan from his nose."

Gai gasped, retracting into a less in-your-face but still equally bombastic position. "You are right! I was simply overflowing with energy and did not notice my rudeness!"

" _Das_ kann ich sehen," Axel grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, almost involuntarily. "I'm Brandt Axel."

A blink to process, and then Gai leapt into yet another pose and began proclaiming how 'youthful' such a name was.

Genma-kun, in quiet contrast, just asked, "Ak-su-what-now?"

Apparently quite used to repeating himself by now, he simply did so. "Brandt Axel."

"No offense, but that's certainly a mouthful." After a moment's consideration, mentally trying to shape the odd name, Genma-kun seemed to find it to be a lost cause. The third genin team member, who had walked up just as Axel introduced himself, seemed to agree with the sentiment, since he didn't even bother trying to figure out the pronunciation.

"Bu-rant Aku-ser!" Gai exclaimed, rather suddenly. Then: "B-rant A-kser! I _will_ get it soon!"

The practice names continued with variable success, and Genma-kun simply ignored them. "Anyway, I'm Shiranui Genma, also a genin, and this is Ebisu."

"Genin," Ebisu-kun added, just to be consistent.

"And I'm Akimichi Chōza," said a low voice, "the jonin supposedly in charge of these three."

Axel looked very much like this entire situation made positively no sense to him at all, but that, for the sake of sanity, he had decided to just go with the flow for now. This didn't stop the other blond from taking a single, carefully judged step back in order to position Minato solidly between himself and the rowdy young ninja. Or maybe it was more between him and the large Akimichi: Minato's fellow shinobi did look imposing, even if he was actually anything but.

So, while Minato _did_ notice the slight shift, he choose not to comment on it. Instead, he teasingly quipped, "Oh dear, are these three causing you trouble, Chōza?"

The large man nodded, expression almost an even split between false and perfectly genuine sincerity. "Seems to be their natural state. But whatever, what are you doing out here?"

"Ah, well…" Minato was a little embarrassed, given the accident he'd had with his experimental seal, so he waffled over what to say for a bit.

He waffled a bit too long, since Morimoto-san took it upon himself to answer (even if he didn't bother moving from where he stood beside the cart). "This young ninja here had a… somewhat _explosive_ problem near where we were resting from our journey. He's decided to help us out as an apology for scaring Axel off a log."

Axel seemed somewhat bothered by the frank description of his graceless-ness, but since he couldn't dispute it he just crossed his arms with a slight huff.

Minato smiled sheepishly. "An experimental seal," he explained. "It just… didn't work as desired."

"Seriously?" Chōza raised a skeptical brow and pointed out, "He said it _exploded_."

"Kinda, when the outer seal six-point array triggered out of sync with the tertiary—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Minato." The large man had never had an inclination towards the sealing arts, and he could tell when Minato was slipping into teacher mode; it was something of a habit for Minato, even back in the academy.

"But, well, I mean," he replied, even as he tried to sort himself into a neater explanation. Eventually he had to concede the point. "Okay, yes, it did blow up in my face. But only a little!"

Axel shook his head, and Minato barely caught the tentative smile that twitched at the other man's lips. "'Only a little'?"

"As one does, you know," added Morimoto. "Explosion or not, I—"

Suddenly, Gai. It doesn't really need any more description. "BE-RANT ACK-SEL," he said in time to the handstand push-ups he had apparently decided needed doing. "If I cannot get it right by the fiftieth, then I shall do one hundred more!"

Axel was staring, so Minato gave him a little nudge and a smile.

"Gai's a bit of a, ah…"

"Interesting _character_?" provided Axel. The words were ever so slightly bitter, and his voice had that barely-held-together fragility that was a bit worrisome, but overall the tone suggested it was a joke of some sort. Minato couldn't quite figure out how.

"That's one way to put it."

"BRANDT ACK-SEL!"

Ignoring the noise coming from his loudest genin with enviable ease, Chōza glanced between the two newcomers to the village and their overburdened cart. And to Minato, who was still standing beside Axel just in case. Then, finally, to the still energetic Gai. He seemed to have an idea, because after a moment, he called for said shinobi's attention: "Gai-kun."

Gai immediately flipped out from his handstand push-ups and landed in a pose—more business-like than earlier, and yet only _marginally_ less bombastic. "Yes, Chōza-sensei?"

The big man gestured to Morimoto and his cart. "How would you feel about a quick mini-mission?"

"Wait a second," Genma-kun interjected, crossing his arms with a slight scowl and petulant flick of the senbon in his mouth. "Why only Gai?"

With a nod, Ebisu-kun added to the protest, "We're a team, aren't we? We should do missions together."

Chōza smiled at his students, clearly already soft on them even though their team had only been together for a few weeks. "If you think you're still up for it after our mission, then…" He shrugged. "Eh, I guess you could help too."

There was a brief lull in the conversation as the trio of genin waited to hear what their sensei had planned, but, when no details were forthcoming, the ever-eager Gai decided to press on. If 'press on' meant 'wildly guess'.

"Oh, is it a mission to race back to report to Hokage-sama? Or to help a little old lady cross the street?" A dramatic hand pointed toward the village without looking and, surprisingly, there actually happened to be a little old lady quietly making her way home with groceries. He didn't seem to notice the vast difference between his first two guesses. Gai paused, then vigorously shook his head. "No, no! It must be—"

"Gai-kun. Really," Chōza shook his head, still smiling, "it's just helping them get where they're going."

Axel looked vaguely horrified by that idea, but then again he had look vaguely horrified by everything that had happened since he had looked out over the village: or at least landing somewhere on the spectrum between 'denial' and 'vaguely horrified'. Minato wasn't a hundred percent confident in his ability to read the slightly older man for… well, for various reasons, actually. Not to be rude, but Axel's face was peculiar. Obviously his facial features weren't as out there as some shinobi, but his prominent nose and the position of his eyes in particular made Minato second guess himself.

Plus, they _had_ only just met.

Before Axel could try and dissuade the idea—that's _probably_ what he was planning on doing when he opened his mouth—Morimoto had already agreed. "That'd be a big help! After today, I just wan—"

Morimoto wasn't even able to finish his sentence before Gai all but appeared in front of the cart, ready to start off at top speed. Before he could, thankfully—who _knows_ where it would have ended up, otherwise—his teammates rushed over.

"We're a team, Gai!" Genma-kun poked his green-spandexed friend, tone reprimanding. "Don't just run off to do the mission without us!"

However, since Gai had already begun to pull the cart, further chiding was set aside as the trip resumed. All seven of them walked the final, slight distance to the village threshold.

As they approached the two shinobi guarding the gate, Morimoto seemed to remember something and proceeded to slump in exhaustion. "Dagnabbit, I still need to hand over the paperwork, don't I."

Minato winced in sympathy: he might never have needed to fill out the customs forms when coming or going, but he had witnessed the impressive lines that sometimes formed outside the gates. Luckily it seemed to be just late enough in the day that it shouldn't take too much time.

"It should be fairly quick, this time of day."

And so it was, much to everyone's surprise. Even if there was a bit of a snag when it came to Axel—who apparently had no documents, strangely enough—the guards didn't seem too bothered. They just waved him on through.

But Axel hesitated. He stood there, staring blankly at the line in the dirt that marked the edge of the village. Then, as if mechanically, his eyes panned up and over to the mountain side and looked at each giant face in turn. But he otherwise remained completely frozen in place.

So, naturally, Minato gave him a little shove.

Axel stumbled into Konoha.

"Welcome to the Village Hidden in the Leaves, Axel!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Because meeting Maito Gai after experiencing a severe shock is the best thing that could happen.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks to everyone reading and enjoying the story! And then thanks again for every comment and kudos! Just, you know: all the thanks for all the things. You guys are great.
> 
> Translations:  
> "Überras—" = The beginnings of "Überraschend" or "Surprising"  
> "'Gai'? Nicht Lee? Aber dann—" = "'Gai'? Not Lee? But then—"  
> "Das kann ich sehen." = "That I can see."
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	6. A Midnight Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial shock has worn off some. Sleep really can work wonders.

The rest of the trip passed in a blur, at least to Axel.

He was pretty sure he had been part of a conversation, supplying distracted hums of acknowledgment whenever the topic veered in his direction. At some point Morimoto had been surprised by something, maybe, and of course Gai—he was still reeling about running into _Gai_ of all people—was consistently energetic the entire time. Probably. Axel wasn't really paying attention.

Or maybe he had been, at the time. He certainly couldn't remember any of it now.

The house Morimoto led them to, though Gai and the cart were technically always in the lead, was a simple two-story building with a bit of overgrown yard between it and the road. Axel only noticed those things because he tripped on his way to the front door and again when trying to go up the stairs.

Morimoto had wasted no time showing him to what was presumably going to be his room, at least for the moment, before vanishing back downstairs to help the trio of newbie ninja—genin?—unload the cart.

And there Axel stood, just inside the room as the door swung shut behind him, not really sure how he got there.

His bag slipped from his shoulder, and he let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He followed shortly after, all but collapsing against the door as the willpower that had kept him upright for the past who-knows-how-long drained away. Exhaustion and disbelief and denial and confusion and deep, suffocating _fear_ swirled in his gut.

Not fear of the ninja themselves, no. Although, thinking back to some of the late series fights Adri had either sent him the videos to or simply sat him down to watch… that would be justifiable. Summoning meteors or flattening villages or the entire whatever nonsense the final battle had been: that's all serious business now. Real threats.

But that wasn't what he was so scared of.

(Mostly.)

Axel stared blankly at the empty room. It was an unfamiliar, empty echo of his apartment back in München: a bare shelf and a desk on one wall, an unmade bed along the other. Numbly, he stood and managed to walk to the bed. Part of him noticed that he no longer had shoes on, just socks—probably took them off when he came in.

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, Axel closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. Keeping it consciously steady and deep and consistent.

He didn't know how he got here. Got to this world.

He didn't know how he could get home.

If he even could.

And _that_ scared him.

With a suddenly shuddering breath, he flopped back on the bed—uncaring that it had no sheets or blankets yet—and draped one arm over his face. Lying like this, blind to his surroundings, he could almost convince himself that he was back in Germany. Or Tokyo. Or even back to earlier in the week, still blissfully unaware.

The window was open slightly, letting in a gentle breeze that tugged at the curtain and stirred the air. It was quiet. Peaceful. A few dogs somewhere outside barked. Axel focused on that.

Calm.

He was calm.

This was… unexpected, to say the least. But he was _here_ , and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Especially if he panicked himself into an early grave.

With each breath, Axel focused on himself: how inhaling pulls and expands, exhaling releases and contracts. Focused on how his bones and muscles and skin felt in the moment, just existing.

And, after some time, he _was_ calm.

Calm enough, anyway.

Still in his travel clothes and lying on an unmade bed, Axel fell asleep.

 

=X=X=X=

 

When he woke up, it was to a dark, empty room.

In that space between dreaming and wakefulness, Axel could almost convince himself that he was back in his own apartment. It was easy to lie to himself, to say that everything that had happened over the past month or so simply _hadn't_ happened. And it was such a nice lie, too.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and Axel let go of the lie.

To be honest, he hadn't expected to be able to fall asleep at all.

With a tired groan, Axel propped himself up and blearily blinked at his pitch-black surroundings. He could make out the vaguest of outlines marking where the furniture was, but other than that he might as well have been blind. Too tired to continue the _totally justifiable_ panic attack from earlier, Axel just sat there in the dark.

Blankly staring out at nothing.

Actually, now that he was awake enough to notice, he realized that he was kind of thirsty, to be honest.

Hoisting himself to his feet, Axel stumbled in the direction of the bedroom door. His stumbling nearly became a complete faceplant into the hardwood floor when his foot caught on something. Smacking a hand to the wall to regain his balance, Axel slowly crouched and carefully waved his hand through the air around where he tripped.

Ah. It was his bag, left forgotten where it had fallen earlier. He gently pushed it aside with one foot, safely out of the way, and opened the door.

The rest of the house was just as dark as the bedroom, apparently. That, plus his complete lack of knowledge about where most anything was—in this case a sink, which would presumably be in a kitchen or a bathroom—meant he had no idea where to go. He was pretty sure the stairs were to his right, and he thought he remembered passing through a kitchen when he was led to his room, so that's the way he went.

He was correct: turns out the stairs were _directly_ to his right. His left hand, which had been reaching for a wall, whiffed through empty air and he rather unexpectedly leaned out over empty space. With a startled gasp, Axel blindly grasped for the railing, found it, and decided he had better let his heart slow back down before continuing.

Good to know that the stairs apparently led almost directly up to his room, only offset by about the width of a door. He would have liked to learn as much without nearly falling down them, but oh well.

Axel made the rest of his way downstairs without further mishap, though he did stumble on the small landing halfway down.

At the base of the stairs, feeling slightly ( _very_ slightly) more confident in his darkness-navigation skills, he took a left and promptly tripped over a box. He managed not to fall on his face only by toppling sideways into another box. Clearly he had discovered where the cart's heavy burden had been stored. So, one hand on the wall and one foot scooching cautiously over the floor ahead of him, he crossed the room and entered the next.

And was quite delighted to find that he had successfully made his way to the kitchen. The glow from the digital clock over the stove didn't light up very much and Axel rather doubted the time displayed was correct, so it wasn't helpful for anything other than confirming where he was. And, based on the texture under his fingers—still held up to track the wall—he was standing right beside the fridge.

But, though he was kind of hungry, thirst won out in the end. He could make out the faint outline of what he hoped to be a sink opposite him. A bit closer and he could see four glasses and some plates set out on an old drying rack, from which he grabbed one of each, trusting that they would be clean. Axel held the cup under the faucet and twisted the handle on, then just listened to the pitch of the splashing as it filled up.

With his first gulp of cool water, he realized he was much thirstier than he had thought.

And hungry. He really hoped that there were leftovers from the trip snacks in the fridge: maybe half a sandwich from lunch.

Filling his glass again, he wandered carefully back to the fridge. Opening it swung a beam of cool light over the rest of the kitchen, and he was pleasantly surprised to find—

Something behind him skittered.

That wasn't the pleasant thing.

Axel spun, water sloshing around in his cup. There, in the shadow of the doorway between the front entrance and where he stood was a— a… That couldn't be right. He blinked.

It was a dog, frozen in the act of sneaking around the house. Its fur was mostly black, with tan on its muzzle and three of its feet. The dog—a boy dog—had scruffy dirtier-than-it-should-be hair and no collar. It was the lack of a collar, more than anything else, that led Axel to believe the dog was a stray.

A stray that was both very long and very short.

And also very much breaking into the house.

The dachshund gave a somewhat hesitant wag—that wag dogs use when they're pretty sure that they've been caught mid-crime but were still hopeful for an escape.

“Warum ist…?” Axel began, but he couldn't quite figure out how to finish that question. Man and dog stared at each other for a long minute, so he decided to ask something else instead. Rhetorically, of course, since the dog wouldn't be replying. “Hungry?”

Perhaps there were a number of questions that would make more sense in this situation—what, how, where, general confusion—but then again it's not like the dog could supply any answers. Though the dog did perk up at the possibility of food. Which was a bit strange, to be honest, since it was almost as if the question _had_ been understood. The dachshund slunk closer.

“That's a yes, then.”

Taking a quick drink before setting his cup down, Axel finally checked the fridge to see what sorts of food Morimoto might have in supply. He was quite relieved to find that Morimoto had either brought food in one of those crates or he'd gone on a quick grocery run while Axel had been too busy freaking out to be helpful in any way. It would have been unfortunate if there hadn't been anything to eat, seeing as he'd already gotten his hopes up.

Grabbing a package of ham, Axel tore it open and pulled out a number of slices to flop on his plate. Though technically no longer _his_ plate, seeing as the food he set on it was intended for the dog. In the light from the refrigerator, he took a moment to appreciate the tiny-but-detailed shuriken designs on the plate.

Then, careful not to startle his unexpected four-legged visitor, Axel lowered the dish to the floor and nudged it over with his foot. It skid smoothly across the floor, but the dog took a hesitant (and some would argue wise) step away. Axel stayed crouched, since he thought it probably made him seem less threatening.

After a minute of silent staring, the crouching position was deemed to be too much effort so he sat down entirely. The motion startled the dachshund, who gave a sharp twitch and then shot the human a distinctly disgruntled glare.

Axel thought it was pretty darn cute.

As if able to read his thoughts, the dog gave a huffed bark. Taking those last few steps over the the plate, the ham was given a hesitant sniff and deemed safe enough. Then, naturally, the dachshund proceeded to thieve the entire plate. Which is to say the dachshund carefully took the ham—plate and all—and swiftly booked it in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait, that's—” Axel cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that the target of his confusion had already vanished. With a sigh, he leaned back onto his hands; the floor below felt cool and only a little dusty. “It not even my plate of give.”

He was trying to peel out another slice of ham for himself when he abruptly realized, “Wait, I meant 'it's' and 'to', not… well, not that anyone's here to complain.”

Finally freeing another slice, Axel stood up, tossed the package back into the fridge, and shut the door. The kitchen was plunged back into darkness, but at least he sort of knew where things were now. Finishing his small midnight snack, he blindly reached for his cup. Blindly _and_ cautiously, thankfully, which would be why he didn't smack it off the counter.

Glass in hand and a slightly less vague mental map of the house in mind, Axel began his careful trip back to bed. As he walked, he could feel his eyes sliding unfocused as exhaustion crept back up on him: it seems that sleep due to sheer panic wearing him down to near unconsciousness is not particularly rejuvenating.

Go figure.

When he reached his room, he left his cup on the desk and briefly pondered if it would be worth getting bedclothes and changing into pajamas. Fairly immediately, Axel realized that a blanket and pillow and some sheets were already nicely folded near the head of the bed. They were even slightly disheveled; clearly he had actually laid right on top of the folded stack without even noticing.

However, just because he had sheets and stuff didn't mean he had to nicely make the bed quite yet. Instead Axel just sort of haphazardly spread out one sheet—mostly on the mattress though a good deal spilled onto the floor—then the blanket. It would do for now. After that, he barely put in the effort to change into sleepwear: his t-shirt would be good enough.

Stretching one last time, his gaze flicked to the curtained window. Unavoidably, his mind turned to the truth of his situation, and it felt like something cold gripped his throat. He swallowed past it.

It was a relief to crawl into bed and call the long, crazy day well and truly finished.

 

=X=X=X=

 

When he woke up, the world was still crazy. As evidenced by the perfectly mundane, empty room he awoke to.

He sat up.

In the light of morning—or maybe afternoon, he wasn't sure—Axel realized that his bedroom was rather large. Certainly larger than the guest room he had claimed previously. Even slightly larger than his room back in München.

That thought, reminding him just where he was, twisted in his gut. A deep, measured breath smoothed it out.

His eyes landed on where his bag still sat on the floor, and, after staring at it for what was probably an unnecessarily long time, he decided he might as well deal with it.

Swinging his legs out from under the pile of (mostly) unmade bedsheets he had slept in, Axel stretched. Some ache from the long walk the day before eased away, and so he stood up.

It wasn't until he scooped his bag off the floor that he noticed something about his room. Namely: it was more than just really large. In fact, there were three doors, only one of which would lead out. Naturally that begs the question of just _what_ the other two doors led to. So, obviously he temporarily abandoned his bag on the bed and went to investigate.

Turns out his room apparently had a walk-in closet and an en-suite bathroom.

He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, confused. For multiple reasons, not least of which being why _his_ room had an attached bath. Other than that, though, the layout was strange. It had the usual bathroom stuff—toilet, sink, shower—but it also had a separate bathtub. A _large_ separate bathtub. Looking between the shower and bath, Axel wondered why they each had their own space; it would be more efficient, after all, to have the shower built into the tub and use the same drain.

But then it wasn't his place to judge: it could just be an oriental thing or maybe a… ninja-world thing.

Regardless, everything about this room felt… large.

He had better things to do than stare at a bathroom, though, so he returned to his original activity. Straightening out the snarl of blankets, he proceeded to dump out his bag on the bed. Axel carefully set aside his backpack, which still had his laptop and so on, and grabbed the secondhand clothes. There was plenty on closet space for them, obviously, so he dropped them on a shelf in there and called it good enough.

He placed his backpack on the desk, not quite willing to unpack it yet.

Pulling on pants, he decided it was time to face the day. No matter how crazy.

The situation wouldn't be changing any time soon, after all.

Axel found Morimoto in the room of many boxes, stooped over one and shuffling through its contents.

“Good mor—”

The older man jolted upright, startled, and spun around. “GAH—! Oh, it's just you… Yes, good morning, Axel.” He collected himself quickly, having become at least somewhat used to the blond's unexpected skill at sneaking up on people. With a glance outside, he added, “Although I'm pretty sure it's afternoon already.”

Following the older man's gaze to the window, Axel saw that it was, indeed, pretty darn light outside. The extra sleep was well worth it, though—necessary, even—so he didn't let himself be bothered. Instead, he hopefully asked, “Food?”

“Food,” Morimoto confirmed. “Though when I looked this morning some of the ham was suspiciously missing.”

Axel blinked at the sentence, needing a quick moment to string meaning together from what he knew should be a fairly simple statement. Finally, and somewhat surprised, he asked, “That really happened?”

“What?”

“I was hunger—”

“'Hungry',” came a swift correction.

“—hungry,” Axel repeated, logging it somewhere in his mind before continuing. “I came down and got food late. There was a… a, uhm…” Having no idea what the word for 'dachshund' might be, he went with a somewhat goofy sounding descriptor. “A long dog broke in. I gave him some food.”

Shoving the box he had been digging through out of the way, Morimoto turned around with a skeptical expression. “By 'long dog', do you mean a _dakkusufunto_?” he asked.

The word was unexpectedly similar, assuming they were indeed talking about the same thing.

At Axel's only somewhat hesitant nod, a smile tugged at the corners of the older man's mouth. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, a dachshund.”

“And it broke in?”

“As far as I know.”

At this point Morimoto was shaking with silent laughter, and Axel was doing his best to keep a straight face. It was quite hard: likely because picturing a dachshund sneakily slipping through a cracked window, shifty-eyed and decked out in spy gear, was, on all accounts, a hilarious mental image.

“He stole a plate, too.”

That was clearly the final straw, since Morimoto doubled over laughing. He tried to support himself with one of the cardboard boxes, but all that succeeded in doing was folding in the side of the box and making him stagger awkwardly until his balance returned. Which it did do. Eventually.

Finally catching his breath, the blacksmith smiled at his blond friend. “The _dog_ … the _dog_ stole a plate? How did—? Or wait, better question: _why_?!”

“When I gave him ham,” Axel answered, and, looking back at the events of the last night, he shook his head. “I put the ham on a plate, and the dog took both.”

Morimoto shook his head in amused befuddlement. “I suppose that explains why dishes were missing from the drying rack.”

A few minutes later, when they actually went into the kitchen to get food, they would both be confused to find the bottle of soap knocked over onto the floor. Then they were further perplexed to find the missing plate, edges decorated with the tiny shuriken Axel remembered, sitting at the bottom of the sink in a shallow layer of soapy water.

“Either we're both crazy—which is still up for debate—or that,” Morimoto mused, “must be one well-trained dog.”

Axel could only nod in agreement: a very well-trained dog, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Phantom Thief Dachshund has made off with some priceless treasure: around four pieces of ham. He returned the plate though, since, despite his sneaking ways, he is a good dog.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed! I hope you continue to as the story goes on.
> 
> Translations:  
> "Warum ist…?" = "Why is…?"  
> "… _dakkusufunto_?" = "… _dachshund_?" (rōmaji transcription according to Google)
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	7. Let Sneaking Dogs Sneak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dachshunds apparently like hiding in gutters.

The other stray dogs had taken to calling him 'Boss', for some reason. This was despite the fact that, when compared to some of the other dogs (all of the other dogs, really), he was positively tiny. Long, yes—but also very, very short.

He cursed his stubby little legs.

And, though they did call him 'Boss', he found that he didn't really get much out of the title. Basically it meant he had to keep an eye on everyone and make sure their small makeshift pack of stray dogs and cats was kept relatively safe, sheltered, and fed. Which, obviously, was often easier said than done. All in all, the title just meant more work for him when all he wanted to do was snooze and quietly watch the world pass him by.

At the moment, however, he had found something interesting to chew on.

Metaphorically.

Not literally, although he did remember spotting a particularly good-looking stick in one of the lesser-used training fields that would serve nicely.

No, now was not the time to be dreaming of chew toys. He needed to focus. This was pack business, after all.

At the moment, the dachshund was spying on the newly-occupied house across the street. His attempt at infiltration that first night had gone belly-up faster than an attention-seeking poodle, but it had worked out well in the end. Clearly he was out of practice if the blond one—who had a peculiar scent that was somehow different from everyone else the short dog had sniffed—had been able to sneak up on him so easily.

Still, the-one-who-smelled-different seemed to be a nice enough guy.

Although, to be fair, ham could do much to sway his opinion of someone.

Hiding in the gutter on the roof of the building opposite the target's house, he peeked his nose over the edge to give a few test sniffs. No change. Deeming the coast clear, he lifted his head to peer over at the target. Or rather, at the building the target was in. In the past week, he had yet to see the blond man actually leave.

In fact, he had yet to even spot the blond man through one of the windows.

It was a bit worrisome.

"Psst, hey Boss," came a barking voice.

"What is it, Miho?" he asked, front half popping up from the gutter to look down at the window below him. Sure enough, a familiar fluffy brown dog was staring back at him. Miho, unlike himself, was quite a large dog: at least five times taller than he was, which, despite his own stubbiness, was not insignificant. Since she couldn't join him on the thin roof, she had had to settle with resting her head on the windowsill and watching from there. She looked quite bored.

"Why do I gotta do this stake-out with you?" Miho huffed an annoyed breath, grumbling, "I'd rather be out looking for that cat… er, you know, whatshername."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The dachshund wiggled the rest of himself free of the gutter and agilely dropped down through the window. His entrance kicked up a good amount of dust which had both dogs sneezing.

Catching her breath again, Miho repeated her question. "So why am I here, Boss?"

"Because. That's why."

The significantly larger-and-fluffier dog snorted. "That's a stupid answer."

Popping his head out the window briefly to shoot a glance back at the target's house, the dachshund changed the subject. "So who's gone missing this time?"

Miho's white ears pulled back, clearly worried. "The old hissy tabby-cat. Had a bit missing from her right ear?"

"Wait, you mean Tora?" He had liked that cat; a bit crazy and with grand delusions of being a tiger, sure, but she was pretty good at keeping the other cats in line. "She's missing?"

"Since yesterday at the latest."

He frowned, not liking what that meant. "That's the fifth one to go, counting the three last month."

Somewhat reluctantly, Miho said, "Maybe more. Kuromaru, you know him—handsome, dark fur, had to get a sweet eyepatch recently? He's an Inuzuka too, so—"

"Yes," the dachshund was quick to interject. Ever since he had lost his human partner in the attack that left this district empty, the clan had been a touchy subject. "I know."

Thankfully Miho took the hint, dropping that topic and continuing on to her point. "He said that some of the other stray packs have been getting antsy. He thinks they might be missing members too, but not as many as us."

Realizing that he had begun to pace anxiously, he forced himself to sit down. "And what are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" She blinked, surprised that he'd ask for her opinion, before her expression grew suddenly grim. "I think something's up, and I don't like the smell of it."

With a grimace, the dachshund nodded. "I agree. Something—or someone, more like—is snatching us strays off the streets. Who knows why."

"Kidnappings? Really?"

"It fits, though again— not sure why anyone would kidnap strays."

Miho snarled as her mind flipped through the most likely reasons. "Nothing good, I'd bet."

Unfortunately, she was probably right. Then a foreboding thought occurred to him and, unable to sit still any longer, he began pacing again. After all, if this mystery kidnapper doesn't mind snatching animals, it's not much of a stretch to think they might raise the stakes. "Have you heard of any missing humans?"

Her ears flipped up. "You think—?"

“No news of that, then. Good.” She probably wouldn't sound so surprised at the idea if she had heard of something like that happening already. He didn't stop pacing, though he did slow down slightly.

“Not that I know of,” she concurred.

Another few turns around the room and he finally stopped, decision made. “Alright, Miho. You can go look into this.”

Suddenly at full attention, the large dog sprung to her feet. "Seriously? Thanks, Boss! I'll track 'em down in no time! But… uhm, what about you? You're not coming?"

"No, I…" The dachshund's eyes drifted toward the house across the street, almost as if he couldn't help himself. "I still have to figure out these new humans."

Miho beamed him a positively mischievous doggy smile, teasing, "Hoh hoh, so you're that concerned for this blond guy?"

"What?!" he yipped, and if a dog could blush he probably would have been bright scarlet. "I— that's— NO. I'm clearly concerned about this guy. Not for."

"Sure you are." Miho sounded a mix between teasing and genuinely pleased.

He determinedly repeated, "Not for."

"Methinks you protest too much."

That earned her a still-embarrassed-sounding growl.

She ignored that, noticing instead the traitorous wag of his tail. Standing up—another smile aimed squarely in his direction—Miho shook off some of the dust that had settled on her fur before heading to the door. "Well, whatever. I'm off."

"Yes. Good. You do that."

"You have fun stalking the new guy."

"I'M NOT—" he started, but he caught himself. Lowering his voice, he tried again. "I'm not stalking anyone. It's reconnaissance."

Miho shrugged and shouldered the door open. "Whatever you say, Boss. Whatever you say."

The dachshund stared at the door after it swung shut, then turned back to the house across the street. To himself, he reaffirmed, "I'm not."

He also firmly told himself that he wasn't that worried that he hadn't seen any sign of the blond man for the past week. It was fine, the blond man was fine, and it wasn't like he cared either way.

Honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Happy Halloween!  
> I hope your day will be full of spooks (unless you don't like spooks, in which case I hope it's full of, I dunno, candy or something).
> 
> So it seems there is a kidnapper in the village, and by 'kidnapper' I of course mean dog/cat-napper. As many of you guessed, the dachshund is a ninja. A bit out of practice, yes, but still a ninja.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and I hope you all enjoyed this little bonus chapter!
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	8. Unpacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face your fears, Axel. It has to happen at some point.

To distract himself from the confusing mess of impossibility that his life had apparently become, Axel worked hard to help Morimoto unpack the boxes and otherwise get the house set up. He still hadn't figured out _why_ they were working to make the old house livable again, but at least it gave him something to do. It was an effective distraction, even if some of the contents only served to remind him where he was; many of the boxes held tools or jewelry-type things, but there were others filled with weapons like kunai and shuriken.

Axel also wasn't sure how Morimoto expected to sell all these things quickly enough to get back to his son before the teen burned something down. Not that Kichirou would _purposefully_ torch anything, but, to be fair, he had a tendency to get a bit distracted at times. It was an almost valid concern.

Kicking out the bottom of one of the last cardboard boxes and folding it flat, Axel tossed it onto the pile with the others. After a full week of mindless busywork, distributing the contents of all those boxes—weapons included—around the house, they were finally nearing the end.

Morimoto, who had been doing something in the forge area (yes, this house had a forge and it was _amazing_ ), came into the room with a suspiciously happy grin. "Nearly wrapped up here?"

"I think?" replied Axel, half because he wasn't sure how long it would take to unpack the rest and half because he wasn't sure about the use of 'wrapped' in the sentence. "Just three more boxes."

"Fantastic!" The blacksmith walked over and popped one of the last boxes open, nodding to himself as he recognized whatever was inside. "Oh, right. These. Best save them for later, actually."

Choosing not to question it, Axel only shrugged.

Morimoto took the silence as a chance to push for something he had been trying to get Axel to do since that first afternoon in the village. Namely: "I need to get some more things for the forge, fuel and the like. Want to join me?"

Now, just because Axel was no longer in a state of shock due to complete-world-flipping didn't mean he was quite ready to face that flipped world. Thus he had avoided going outside or even looking out the windows for too long. Using a rather lackluster excuse, he answered, "It gives so many things here that I still need to do."

"I think you mean 'there are'. As in ' _there are_ so many things', which I suppose is true." The blacksmith paused before pointedly adding, "Or at least _was_ true. I think you can spare an hour or so."

Axel's eyes darted to the door, then back to the man attempting to convince him to walk through it into the world beyond. That strange world beyond that should be fiction. "I still need to, uh… I-I could… clean more?" It came out as a question.

Not impressed with either of the lame excuses, Morimoto crossed his arms and gave the blond a stern look. "I don't know what you're so scared of, but it's not going to work itself out in here."

He started to protest, but the words died before he could even finish a full sentence. It was true, Axel realized. He _was_ scared. At this point it was more than denial or unease or discomfort; it was fear, plain and simple.

It was about time he faced it.

"Besser spät als nie," he said to himself, cementing his decision. "I… I guess I need to sometime."

The blacksmith's stern look melted into a pleased smile. "Good! I was planning on restocking the forge, you know. This is a good chance for you to see how it's done."

Not quite sure what was meant by that, Axel asked, "Why would I need to—"

The question was swiftly interrupted as Morimoto ushered him to the door. " _Anyway_ , let's be off! Places to go, things to buy, and only so many hours in the day."

Now Axel was downright suspicious. But, having no idea what it was all about, he simply let himself be dragged to the door. He stood at the threshold, pulling on his shoes much more slowly than necessary, and tried to psych himself up to face the world. It's not as if delaying would make it any easier.

As ready as he'd ever be, he followed Morimoto outside.

It was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining bright with nary a cloud in sight. He had always thought that the fictional Konoha was remarkably colorful for a village full of ninja, and it was pretty clear that that impression was correct. Even here, in what he understood to be an abandoned district, the rooftops were still colored vibrant shades of blue, orange, red, or green. Plants were retaking what they could, now that nobody cared to maintain the roads or buildings, but all that meant was there were more shades of green trailing across the pale walls.

He took a deep breath—appreciating the clean, earthy scents in the air. A breeze, warm with just a touch of the upcoming summer heat, tousled his short hair. The sun shone overhead, and the ground was solid under his feet.

The world was still as real as it had been. Just… different.

Focusing on that, he began to follow after Morimoto. "Where we going?"

"Left out an 'are' in there, Axel."

Familiar with this routine, he simply corrected, "Where _are_ we going? Forge stuff?"

"I know a guy over in the market district," was the supremely unhelpful answer.

"For forge stuff, yes?"

Morimoto waved a dismissive hand, answering, "Old business partner. Thought I'd, you know…" In actuality, Axel did _not_ know. The older man vaguely finished, "It's good to have contacts."

"Er, alright?" Axel wasn't sure what else to say, other than maybe slightly annoyed complaints about skirting around a subject. Honestly, he didn't see what was so hard about speaking plainly.

Maybe it was another ninja-world thing.

As they got closer to the edge of the abandoned district—which didn't take as long as he had expected—they ran into more and more people just wandering the streets. And with more people about, there always seemed to be at least one darting shadow cast by a passing ninja.

It was a little unsettling.

Everything was just… just different enough to throw him off.

Frankly, he was feeling a little overwhelmed the more people he saw; every new face—and especially any faces that brought on that disconcerting sense of recognition—just drove in how very far from home he really was.

It hurt to think of home.

Because this wasn't just the other side of the world.

But he just took another deep breath. After all, _here_ was where he was. No matter how much he might wish otherwise.

"Here we are," Morimoto said at last, having led the way to a small shop ringing with the sound of hammers and the muted roar of a furnace fire.

Axel stared at the door, colored a bright shade of green, but more to the point he stared at the sign hanging off it. After a moment to translate what was written there into sounds, he realized he had just wasted time puzzling out a sign that just indicated that the store was, in fact, open.

"Oh," he acknowledged, eyes still latched onto the three printed characters. Distracted, he didn't notice Morimoto's growing concern.

The older man wasn't blind, and he _certainly_ wasn't as socially inept as a rock, which is what he'd need to be to completely miss the soul-deep grief that occasionally settled over his blond friend. Axel would be fine one second, then his gaze would drift over to the window or settle on something perfectly ordinary—chopsticks, for example—and suddenly he'd just close down.

Like right now.

Morimoto set a hand on Axel's shoulder; he'd learned that contact helped pull the younger man out of whatever dragged his mind away in the first place. "You can wait out here if you'd like. The fresh air will do you good."

With a wry smile, Axel replied, "Think I'll embarrass you?"

"No," the blacksmith shot back, "but you might embarrass yourself."

It seemed that Axel had no argument for that, mumbling what sounded like an agreement with those oddly foreign sounds. "Gute Entscheidung."

Decision apparently made, Morimoto headed into the shop without the dimensionally-displaced blond. Axel leaned back against the wall beside the green door, planning on waiting and trying not to think too hard about where he was.

It was what he had been doing since he first realized that Konoha meant _Konoha_.

Frankly, he was embarrassed. He had been here for over a month now, technically, even if he hadn't known as much for most of that time. Yet here he was, still scared to look at the world around him. That needed to stop. Now. Swallowing past his indecision, he turned toward the mountain, and he could just barely see the third face between the buildings. His blue eyes stared into unseeing stone, head on.

His sister wouldn't be so unsettled. Maybe. Adri had ranted to him about stories like this often enough, so at least she might not have been caught so off guard.

Oh God, his sister.

The thought felt like something cold, reaching through his gut and wrapping around his spine. Unable to remain standing, he slid down the wall until he was sitting folded with his knees to his chest.

He might never see her again.

Because for all that he still breathed, he might as well be dead to her. And to his parents. And his friends.

His world.

He looked away from the mountain's face.

"…Axel-san? Or, er, Axel?"

Blinking to refocus, he looked up at the sound of that concerned voice. "Minato?"

For a split second, Axel didn't recognize the man before him. Well, he did recognize his appearance. Nearly, anyway. Add a long white coat, edged with stylized flames, and cut off a few inches of height. Memories of his sister overlapped the here and now. She had stood at the top of the stairs to show off her latest costume—or latest _cosplay_ , as she would correct him—with a happy, thankful smile. He had made her some of the character's knives, though dull, to complete the look.

In the memory she spun one around on her finger, but it only made three full turns before slipping off. They shared a surprised laugh when it struck the floor and ended up sticking upright out of the carpet.

"I asked first," the ninja quipped back, smile only slightly worried. "What are you doing down there?"

Axel closed his eyes on the happy memory—now tinted with sharp loss—and then looked past his knees to the mostly clean sidewalk he was sitting on. Since the ninja would be expecting an answer and Axel had no clue how to say 'pondering the fate of my previous existence' in Japanese, he settled with, "Thinking about… life."

With an expression that suggested he knew exactly the sort of thinking might have been going on—that is to say, the bleak and distressing kind—Minato offered him a hand up. "A dangerous game," he remarked.

Taking the hand and letting himself be pulled upright, Axel countered, "But it needs making."

"'Making'?"

Axel reviewed his sentence, then corrected, "It needs doing. Or maybe playing. I have problems with words."

"What sorts of problems?" Minato asked, openly interested.

"Eh, well…" It probably wasn't the greatest idea to tell the crazy world-hopping truth, but he couldn't resist saying, "Japanisch ist nicht meine Muttersprache."

Minato blinked once, then twice: surprise and curiosity played across his face, mixing with quite a bit of confusion. "Wait, what?"

Of course, instead of answering the question, Axel changed the topic entirely. "Why are you here, anyway?"

A bit miffed at the blatant redirect, Minato vaguely replied, "Oh, no reason, Axel-sa… Axel."

It must have been odd addressing a virtual stranger without any honorific at all, as evidenced by the ninja's stumbles. But then again, it must not have been _that_ off-putting, seeing as Minato went along with it without protest.

Before Axel could make a cheeky guess about the purpose of the other blond's presence—they were standing outside a shop, after all—the green door swung open and Morimoto stepped out onto the street.

"Hello, Namikaze-san," he greeted, one hand busily folding away a few papers while the other offered a cheery wave. "How have you been this past week?"

"Blown up anybody else?" added Axel, unable to resist the urge to tease. He _was_ an older brother, after all.

"Ah, w-well about that…"

"Shinobi," Morimoto scoffed with a smile. "Always up to something."

Axel really had to agree, even though his only experience with ninja so far was Gai; he knew from the show that even most other ninja thought him and his… _youthfulness_ to be peculiar, so that might not be the most accurate baseline.

In this, however, it seemed that Minato also agreed. He just gave a sheepish, but pleased, smile. "I lost a lot of good kunai, hence why I'm here, but I think it will be worth it."

He reached into one of his vest pockets and pulled out what was left of one of his throwing knives: what was probably the very tip of the blade, though it was hard to tell given it had melted into a barely pointy blob.

To be honest, Axel was impressed. "How many?"

"Maybe… around fifty? Sixty?" Minato scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "I sort of lost count at around thirty-two."

"Das kann nicht dein Ernst sein!" Axel exclaimed in disbelief, ignoring the confused looks his foreign language earned him from other people walking down the street.

Morimoto burst into laughter. "And _that_ ," he said, still chuckling, "is why it's good to be a blacksmith in this town."

They spent a few more minutes chatting, discussing both the creation and destruction of various ninja weaponry, before Minato abruptly realized that he really didn't have time to talk. After a fast apology and an even faster goodbye, the other blond took off like a shot—plan to shop for more kunai abandoned by time constraints.

Morimoto was slightly disappointed that he didn't get to invite him to drop by the house: like a playdate, just not phrased as such. In his opinion, Axel really needed to make a few friends. And after all, it hadn't escaped his notice that Axel had quite enjoyed talking shop with Minato.

As they made their way back to the house, Axel was in a better mood than he had been for several days now. That, too, didn't escape Morimoto's notice.

"Glad to see you smiling again." He led the way up the short yet overgrown path to the house. Then, in a gentle tone that suggested he wanted to know what was wrong, he added, "You had me worried."

Busying himself with the keys and unlocking the door, it seemed like Morimoto either didn't notice or simply ignored how his statement froze Axel where he stood.

Then, as the silence dragged longer, he softly added, "You don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to."

Axel had known he'd need to bring this point up eventually, but the words still caught in his throat. It had been days since his initial realization, but those days weren't nearly long enough. Just as he had avoided the outside world, he had yet to admit it out loud: that just felt too… final. Too real.

But he had to, of course. Saying it aloud wouldn't _really_ change anything.

"When we first got here…" Axel began, hesitantly. "Or, well, I suppose it was when we hadn't actually gotten _here_ yet, but when we first saw the village." He swallowed dryly, and found himself unable to continue.

Morimoto, who had been hopeful to get an answer but hadn't _really_ been expecting to get any, rested a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he said. "And you can bet that if I _can_ help, I will."

Axel nodded, still gathering his courage. When he began speaking again, his sharp accent was far heavier. "I see, er, _saw_ it—the village—and I… remembered, I guess. I can't… everything is…" He broke off again, took a deep breath, and finished, "I don't have anywhere to go."

He thought of his sister, and another stab of heartache wrapped around his chest. It was hard to breathe. His family, his friends, his home, his world, his _everything_ : it was all gone.

Maybe he hadn't technically died in that car crash—who knows what the heck had actually happened—but he thought this might very well be worse. Alive, but alone. Separated.

"Oh." The older man didn't move his hand, and, when Axel glanced over to gauge his expression, Morimoto gave him a comforting smile. "But you _do_ have somewhere. It might not be the same as whatever you've lost, but you can stay for as long as you like."

"...What?"

Morimoto didn't look even remotely embarrassed. "While _I_ have to go back to Chotto to make sure my kid hasn't caused some sort of catastrophe somehow—" apparently he and Axel shared similar concerns about that, "— _you_ are free to stay here as long as you want."

Axel's voice became very small, uncertain, and he just repeated, "What."

"I own the place," the older man continued, his relaxed air disguising some of the old hurt in his voice. "Of course, the district's been abandoned since about fourteen years ago. I took Kichirou and left to stay with what was left of my family."

Given that the man now lived alone with his son, Axel could guess something had happened. Something he shouldn't pry into now, and maybe not ever. Instead, he asked, "Why let me stay here?"

"It's empty, I don't use it, you need somewhere. Why wouldn't I?"

"'Why wouldn't—'! Because— because es ist…" The outburst petered out almost as soon as it had begun, and all Axel could manage was a confused expression. He had lost his grip on Japanese—a part of him distractedly wondered if the language was still even called Japanese here—and he suspected he'd need a moment to regain it.

"Look, Axel." Morimoto's calm tone demanded his attention. "You're a good guy. I like to think that I've gotten to know you pretty well over the past month, given you've been living under my roof, and Kichirou definitely thinks of you like an older brother."

Axel was still at a loss for words of any language, but even if he could gather enough words to form an understandable sentence—which was doubtful—the older man wasn't done yet.

"My son, well… he has a few close friends, but he certainly isn't a social butterfly. And he certainly doesn't usually befriend near-dead strangers he finds in the forest." He had a pleased grin on his face and, taking his hand from Axel's shoulder, he added, "So look, even if I didn't trust my own judgment about you—and I do—I'd trust his. Why shouldn't I help you?"

A blink, then another. In an almost whisper, Axel said simply, "Thank you."

"Eh, no problem. I mean, this works out well for all of us." Morimoto looked a bit sheepish and, with a gesture to the house as a whole, he explained, "I've kinda been hoping to force the place on you for a while."

"A while? Since when?"

He shrugged. "Since I learned you have a great hand at smithing. Figured you could restart the smithy here."

"You've been… since… And wait, so I could WHAT?"

 

=X=X=X=

 

"And just _what_ ," he hissed, "could you mean by that?"

The snake curled in on itself, recoiling on instinct, but its eyes remained as sharp as cut glass. When it spoke, the words slid one into the next with an almost whispering cadence. "Just what I have said, Master."

For a long moment, tension thick as blood, the only sound in the laboratory was a quiet drip: a buret releasing a single drop of acid into a sample of unknown solution. Measured, calculated, predictable.

"I see."

In the silence— _drip_ , _drip_.

Not daring to move, the small summon simply stared back. It had done as was commanded. It had watched and listened, and finally reported back. Now it could only wait.

Golden eyes cold as ice and voice deceptively relaxed, threats left unspoken, he asked, "You say my seals were poorly drawn?"

"No, Master," the snake replied. "Only that they were wrong."

A slow, measured blink. "Explain."

Its tongue flicked out to taste the air, cautious and trying to judge the tone of that single word. "There are two warmths."

"Two," he echoed, with that same emptiness. "Where my seals found only one."

Dangerous, the snake decided. And with an edge from bruised pride. It needed to approach this carefully. Pulling itself up, arching into a graceful curve, it soothed, "Two warmths, yes. But only one chakra."

That got a narrow look.

"As it sounds, Master." With a motion that was likely a serpentine shrug, it added, "I watched, I felt. I am sure of this."

 _Drip_ , _drip_.

"It's impossible," he said at last. "Having no chakra is the same as being dead."

The snake said nothing.

A series of rapid hand signs, followed by a sharp jab to the wall and a precise pulse of charka, sent black lines radiating outward from his pointing finger. In a rapid cascade of ink, a map of the abandoned district drew itself with precise strokes. A few spots blinked, moving or remaining in place, updating the position of the chakra signatures being tracked. Checking over the entire seal in a brief but thorough glance, he found no obvious faults.

So, withdrawing his chakra, he allowed it to fade away.

He closed his eyes, thinking. The snake waited.

And quietly, that constant rhythm— _drip_ , _drip_.

"You would not lie to me," he said at last, but it felt like an accusation.

"Never, Orochimaru-sama."

His smile was slow and, like a knife, it glinted with a killer edge. "How very, very _interesting_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> It seems that the abandoned district might have remained as such by design. And now Axel's living right in the middle of it, being all peculiar when compared to regular civilians.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for the comments and kudos! Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Translations:  
> "Besser spät als nie." = "Better late than never."  
> "Gute Entscheidung." = "Good decision."  
> "Japanisch ist nicht meine Muttersprache." = "Japanese is not my native language."  
> "Das kann nicht dein Ernst sein!" = "You cannot be serious!" (not a direct translation)  
> "…es ist…" = "…it is…"
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	9. Shelves, Seals, and Spirals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's no combustion engine but Axel's already bringing in new ideas.

The front room of the house was an absolute mess of half-way built empty displays, scavenged tables, and boxes of stock. Axel was standing amidst the pile of store things, attempting to puzzle out the instructions for setting up the various shelves or racks. At least, he was pretty sure the thing he was currently struggling to put together was a shelf of some sort.

With a jangle of keys in the lock, Morimoto shouldered his way through the door. “How's it—” He walked around the wall that sectioned off the small entryway and stopped short. “Oh. That good, huh?”

Axel snorted, well aware how the room had fallen apart during the course of his attempted set up. By this point quite exasperated, he said simply, “Yes. Help?”

“Naturally,” Morimoto replied, wading into the mess without even bothering to put down the box he had carried into the house with him.

Which was just what they needed, really: yet another box to deal with.

In answer to the unasked question, the blacksmith popped open the box and let him sneak a peak. It was an old faded blue cash register, clearly secondhand—or maybe even fifthhand, based on the gentle scuff marks from long use—but it looked to be in working order.

“Figure'd you'd need one of these,” he explained, setting the box down by his feet. “But we'll deal with that later. What're you having issues with?”

Handing over the sheet of unhelpful instructions, Axel just shook his head in that way that was both annoyed and too tired to be annoyed. “I can't read.”

Morimoto, as he scanned through the list of steps, offhandedly remarked, “You _can_ read, just not everything.” Then, with a grin, he added, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why are there so many characters?” Axel groaned to himself, thinking of the positively exhausting number of symbols from various syllabaries—kanji, katakana, hiragana—that he'd need to practice into fluency. To distract himself from that inconvenient truth, he knelt and started sifting through the stack of unmade shelf bits for a specific piece.

Joining him in shoving any unrelated mess to the side—scraps and empty boxes and even the newish old cash register got pushed away—Morimoto began laying out the pieces they would be needing. Some of them, Axel noted, were things he had thought to be completely unrelated. Clearly, getting the older man's help had been the right decision.

(To himself, Axel despaired that he couldn't put a simple shelf together without assistance.)

With help translating each step into something he could understand, the shelf finally began to take form. The shelves themselves had adjustable angles so that the goods on display could be seen and reached easier, but that threw him for a loop when he accidentally attached one end to be significantly steeper that the other.

He briefly wondered just how stupid he must be to still mess up something so simple even with help, but that thought, having apparently been said out loud, just earned him a reprimanding smack from Morimoto.

“Stop that, Axel,” the blacksmith chided. “You just set the shelf crooked, it's not like you broke anything.”

“For now.”

With a displeased look that said he had very much considered another smack, Morimoto flipped a page in the instructions and they turned back to work.

Before they could continue construction, however, there were two sharp knocks at the front door. Axel, who was at that very moment elbow deep in shelf-building, shared a look of confusion and curiosity with his instruction-reading companion. Smacking the crooked shelf panel onto the desired pegs—meaning it was no longer crooked at all—Axel dusted off his hands and straightened back up to standing.

A second later there came a third knock, and Morimoto gestured at him to go answer the door. So, with shrug, he headed over to see whoever had come to visit.

The door opened with a click.

“What are you doing here?” Axel asked.

Minato, who had been curiously eyeing the roof of the building across the street, spun around when the door opened. He hadn't noticed anyone approaching the door on the other side, so he had been rather startled. Embarrassed, he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Hello.”

“Guten Tag,” came his ingrained response to a direct greeting. Then, nearly immediately after speaking, he realized how he had basically just opened the door and, well… the first thing he said certainly hadn't been a polite welcome. More like a rude dismissal, though he hadn't intended the question as such. He'd just wanted to know a reason for the visit, that's all!

Looking unsure of how to respond, Minato blinked.

Axel attempted to backpedal: “Not that you can't, er, you can come here, I mean, just how, uh…” Too frazzled, the words escaped him.

Though his tone made it sound more like a question, Minato stopped the jumbled mess of an attempted apology by answering “Just thought I'd visit…?”

“Oh, good.”

And it _was_ good, Axel thought to himself. He had enjoyed the few times he had spent talking with him, distress at world-changing (literally) revelations notwithstanding. Minato seemed like a sane enough guy, despite his status as a ninja.

If the show is to be trusted, sane ninja are a definite minority.

Which would be why Axel had decided that ninja, in general, should be avoided. It wasn't that he thought they were bad people, per se, but more that he figured his odds of survival would be better if he stayed away from any ninja nonsense. He could probably make an exception for this one, though.

More importantly, he _wanted_ to make an exception for this one.

Minato, well… He reminded him of Adri. And maybe that was just because she had dressed up as him once or twice, or because his sister and the ninja were around the same age, or maybe they had a similar smile—it didn't matter why, really.

In the surprisingly companionable silence of that conversational lull, they heard Morimoto clear as a bell when he quipped, “I think this is the part where you let him in, Axel.”

“I… I knew that.” Axel shot what very well might have been the most non-frown frown of all time in the direction of the the older man, though naturally Morimoto wouldn't be able to see it through the wall. “Definitely knew that. Come in?”

The ninja sent another glance at the roof across the way, and when Axel followed his gaze he thought he caught sight of something small and black ducking out of sight. Which was a bit concerning, to be honest. It's not like he really merited somebody spying on him: he's just a normal guy.

Even if he was from a completely different world.

…It's not like anybody else _knew_ that.

Resolving to just dismiss the possibility of a ninja stalker, Axel waved in his guest and shut the door behind him. Minato paused in the entryway and started to take off his sandals: the polite thing to do when entering someone's home.

“No, don't need to.”

One shoe already half off, Minato gave him a curious glance. “Really?”

Axel shrugged, gesturing in the direction of the room still full of half-assembled shelves and other furniture. “It's messy enough not to care.”

“Plus,” Morimoto added, seeing the stunned look on Minato's face when the ninja rounded the corner and took in the mess, “it'll be a shop eventually. No need to have customers take off their shoes whenever they come in.”

“A shop?” asked Minato, before he seemed to recognize something. “I've seen that type of shelf before, in weapons stores.”

“Blacksmith.”

As if to punctuate that single word, a teetering box of miscellaneous stuff slid off its stack with a thud. The only reason it didn't cause a cascade of other things falling over was because Morimoto stuck out his foot to steady the propped up shelf-pieces it nearly knocked over.

“I'll sort this out,” the older man said, wanting Axel to socialize more than he wanted help setting up shelves. He shooed the pair of them off as best he could with one foot occupied. “You go chat.”

Axel didn't think he had ever been very good at small talk, even when he had the advantage of speaking his native language. Speaking probably-not-called-Japanese, he had even less faith in his conversational skills. Nothing for it but practice, though, so he simply led the way into the kitchen.

Unlike the front room, which was still swamped with things to unpack, the kitchen was perfectly in order. Kind of. It wasn't decorated, they definitely needed to get more utensils besides chopsticks, and the sliding door needed some tending to so that it wouldn't squeal if not pulled in _just_ the right way, but beyond that everything was set up nicely.

After filling two glasses of water from the sink, Axel joined Minato back at the table. He wondered which would alleviate paranoia of poisoning more: a shared pitcher of water he could pour his own drink from, or watching him fill the glasses from the sink. Not that he _had_ a pitcher, but whatever.

Still, given his guest was a ninja—and therefore probably suspicious of the world as a whole—he thought it best to at least let Minato choose which cup he wanted.

Which, based on the slightest twitch of blond eyebrows, was a bit of a surprise.

Axel hoped he hadn't committed some kind of ninja faux pas.

“So.” He took a sip from his water, thinking, and then decided to just cut to the chase. “What _are_ you doing here?”

In answer, Minato pulled out a small scroll from one of the many pouches on his ninja vest. “I thought maybe another set of eyes could help.”

He unrolled it to reveal a deceptively simple image: scribbles of ink framing a rather conspicuous circular blank space in the middle of the page. Tapping the edge of the design with one finger, there was a puff of white smoke and something was unsealed from the page.

The casual use of ninja wizardry-magic unnerved Axel for a brief moment—it was surreal to see what had only ever been animation, from his point of view, rendered into reality—but he tried to take it in stride. Ninja were just a fact of life here, after all, and that meant all their wierdness-es were, too.

After waving away the smoke, the unsealed item was revealed to be another scroll. In fact, this one looked to be slightly larger than the first.

Almost like reverse Russian nesting dolls, Axel thought to himself with a grin. If only this scroll also had a larger scroll sealed away, and inside that one there was another, then another, and so on forever.

He pulled himself back from his wandering thoughts with a shake when Minato unrolled the scroll to reveal another seal. It looked fairly similar to the last one, though elongated and the empty space had been filled. The most prominent feature was a carefully inked ellipsoidal spiral; it had been drawn with a steady hand, so the width between each line of the spiraling curve was consistently equal. There were what looked like characters for various words written around the outer edge, but they could just have easily been random doodles for all that Axel understood what they meant.

“This is what I was working on,” Minato began, gesturing to the design as a whole. “It's supposed to be a sort of offensive containment seal that sucks up a target without needing to be directly placed on it.”

Not really sure why he was being told this at all, Axel was nonetheless interested. “The one that explodes?”

The ninja sighed. “Yes, the one that explodes.”

Though he doubted he could actually trigger the seal—he didn't have any chakra to trigger it _with_ , after all—Axel still shifted his hands a little farther away. Just to be safe.

Minato noticed the motion, of course. “Don't worry, it won't just randomly go off,” he reassured. Followed immediately by a much quieter, “Probably.”

Which, rather than worry the hapless German further, only made him want to bust out laughing. He couldn't really explain why, but there was just something hilarious about how that _completely genuine_ faith in the lack of explosions crumbled almost immediately.

“Forgive if I still stay back,” Axel remarked, smile broad and laughter in his blue eyes. “And if it explodes, you better help fix the house.”

“It won't!” Minato repeated, and to his credit he sounded much more convinced of his own words this time.

Quirking an eyebrow in disbelief—though, to be honest, it was more teasing than anything else—Axel pointedly moved farther from the unrolled seal. “Sure you want to do this inside?”

“Actually…” The ninja, as should be expected of a ninja, looked to be mischievously scheming something. “We could always go to one of the training grounds.”

Axel didn't like that idea. But he also didn't want to blow up the house.

Dilemmas.

“…How far?”

 

=X=X=X=

 

Not far at all, apparently.

Plus, it turns out the training grounds are big. _Really_ big. He probably should have guessed that, since _ninja_ could get themselves lost in there as the need suits them. Not to mention that the only one from the show that he could recall off the top of his head was that death forest place from the Chunin Exam: huge and dangerous.

This training ground looked to be significantly more peaceful.

Probably.

Or, to be more truthful, it looked peaceful _for now_. There _would_ be explosions soon.

Minato had led the way to a wide open field, edged with forest, that had a number of beaten up and worn down logs jammed upright in the ground to serve as targets. The grass was green, the trees were greener, and the sky overhead was a cheery blue. There were a few patches of dirt scattered about—likely damage left behind by some other ninja—and it was blatantly obvious that the field hadn't been cared for in quite some time.

In a word, it was _overgrown_.

Which was just as well, Axel supposed, given they were planning on blowing it up anyway.

Flitting through hand signs faster than the eye could follow, Minato knelt to place palm to dirt. With a low rumble, earth rose and hardened into a low stone table.

Ninja magic.

The whole scroll unsealing thing _had_ been just a few minutes ago, so it's not as if this was the _first_ Axel had seen of ninja magic, but still… wow.

While Axel couldn't help but stare at the rectangular rock pulled from the ground by force of will and skill, Minato was setting up a few things on top of it: small slips of blank paper, an ink well, brushes of various sizes, a larger scroll that looked to be full of notes on various bits of the seal, the scroll with the seal itself, and a few kunai to pin down anything that might get caught in a stray breeze. He sat on the ground and gestured for the still speechless German to join him.

Grabbing one of the blank tags, the ninja carefully copied over the experimental seal and then tied it to the hilt of a scrap kunai—dull and rusted, but still good enough for this.

“You might want to move to the other side of the rock,” Minato warned. “Just to be safe.”

Axel blinked, refocusing past the impossible-now-possible aspect of this new world that hadn't quite struck home before just now. Still, as he moved to a safer spot, he managed to cheekily reply, “But I wanted to be exploded.”

“Well, I _don't_ want you to be exploded.”

It's not as if wishing for people to _not_ blow up was unusual, but the sincerity caught Axel off guard. “Thanks.”

Minato smiled, then checked over the kunai again. Finding nothing amiss, he asked, “On the count of three?”

“Count of three,” Axel repeated with a nod.

“Okay.” The ninja stood and shifted into what was probably a ready stance. “3… 2… 1…”

With a sharp flick of his arm, the kunai flew straight and true at the target. It lodged in the wood with a biting _thunk_.

A single hand sign, and the world around the seal tag spiraled. Swirling, then twisting into itself, winding tighter and tighter.

Then, with a sound like a horribly broken vacuum cleaner, a concussive blast spun away whatever the seal had tried to suck in with a whoosh of air. Minato deflected any debris that came too close, though they were far enough away that not much actually reached them.

A sigh, and the ninja made his way over to the destroyed target. “There you have it. It makes for a semi-decent explosion, I guess, but there's too much delay.”

Minato poked around, investigating the pieces of wood that had been torn up and spat out by the attempted sealing. There wasn't much of use, unfortunately. Dusting off his hands and, for some reason, pocketing whatever was left of the kunai, Minato trotted back to their temporary rock desk.

Axel was mentally replaying the explosion, comparing it to the various other explosions he'd seen in videos or pictures.

It had spiraled. That struck him as important, since the central design on the seal was a spiral and everything had spiraled in toward the tag before something made it all spiral back out again. Explosively.

Kind of like a compressed spring.

Actually, _a lot_ like a compressed spring.

“Any ideas?”

Not really sure how he was supposed to help with this but with a vague maybe-useful possibility in mind, Axel asked, “Have you tried a different sort of spiral?”

Minato seemed a bit thrown by the question. “A different sort?”

Spirals were more of a math thing, and so, much like this whole ninja-world situation, more his sister's cup of tea. He had always been more interested in the application of math concepts—into physics or material structures and so on—rather than the math itself. That didn't mean he wasn't familiar with them, however; Adri was nearly as prone to math rants as she was anime ones.

But there was one in particular that he was trying to recall, without much luck at the moment. It had to do with the golden ratio, and patterns on plants, and something about looking artistically pleasing, but that was all he had at the moment.

“Yeah, A different… uhm…” Whenever he forgot a simple word—take, for example, an easy word like 'look'—Axel felt the language divide quite keenly.

Luckily, Minato seemed to get the idea anyway. “You mean its appearance.” He shook his head, slightly disheartened by his lack of success. “I've tried tight and loose spirals, the opposite, changing direction.”

“What about that one that, uh…” Axel had to think for a moment, again trying to recall the name Adri had given the pattern of numbers. Coming up with a frustrating blank, he instead traced the spiral he was thinking of in the air. “Like this.”

Minato sat down, pushed over the large scroll he apparently used for brainstorming, and handed over the brush. Axel stared at the unfamiliar writing utensil for a moment before gamely attempting to trace out the curve in question onto the scroll. It came out worse than he had wanted but better than he had expected, all things considered.

“There's a— a pattern to it.” He scratched at his head, still thinking: the answer was so close he could almost taste it. “It's… adding, I think. Somehow.”

“No harm in trying,” Minato said, grabbing another tag to copy the changed seal.

Axel gave him a look of disbelief for that remark. “It explodes.”

Being careful to match the curve Axel had sketched, outside to inside, Minato just nodded distractedly.

“ _Minato_ ,” he insisted. “It _explodes_.”

“Yeah, it explodes when it shouldn't.” As he attached the new tag to another junk kunai, the ninja smirked. “Can't mess it up much more than that.”

Which was actually a pretty fair point.

Another countdown, and the knife thunked into the next target down the line.

Minato made the same hand sign as before, triggering the same swirl of reality as the seal started to pull at its surroundings. Unlike before, however, the twisting looked… different, somehow.

For a moment, it looked like it might work.

But no.

A split second and it was as if the spiral fell apart, collapsing with a wail of wind and force.

Minato looked hopeful, though, and after some of the dust cleared Axel could see why.

The two of them blinked at the log. Or rather, where the log had been. Yes, there had still been an explosion and that horrible vacuum shriek, but that didn't matter because there was no denying the bitten-off edge where there had been a wooden target. It had actually sort of worked.

Abruptly, and for no reason he could think of, something clicked.

“Fibonacci!” Axel exclaimed. “Die Fibonacci-Folge!”

Minato gave him a curious stare. “The what?”

“The numbers with a pattern. It can make a spiral,” he attempted to clarify, and at the blank lack of recognition he realized his mistake. “You, uh… maybe call it different.”

Since Minato made no motion to stop him and did, in fact, nudge the brainstorming scroll a little closer in an open invitation to continue, Axel tried to figure out how best to explain. And also tried to remember how to say numbers.

He was infinitely glad that, for whatever reason, this world still used normal Arabic numerals.

“It goes 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8,” Axel began, writing the numbers down on the scroll, then circling the first two and adding an arrow to the third. “These add to the next number.”

Minato tapped the space at the end of the sequence. “And next would be 13.”

“Yeah.”

The question now was remembering how to take those numbers and get a spiral out of them. Adri had drawn it for him once, but that had been ages ago. He knew it had squares, so that's what he started to draw, with each sharing a side with the others: one small square, another of the same size, then one twice as large.

Apparently Minato saw where he was going with that, since he reached over with his own brush and added two successively larger squares to the sides. Then, with a deft twist of his wrist that spoke of long practice drawing curves, he added the spiral.

“You know,” Minato mused, “I've tried other spirals before, but they were all unstable. How'd you come up with this?”

“What? I didn't—! It wasn't me, it's—” He floundered, trying to find the right words.

Looking back toward the targets, the ninja suddenly laughed. Their small dog stalker was rooting though the pieces of wood, checking that there wasn't a better stick to chew on than the one he already had in his mouth. The dachshund glanced their way, startled by the sound, then booked it into the forest.

Axel blinked. “Was that… I think that dachshund broke into the house once.”

Still laughing a little bit, Minato nodded. “Strays do that sometimes, checking out their new neighbors.”

Which was a bit of a weird thing to think—dogs or literal cat-burglars sneaking in just to look around—but Axel wrote it off as another one of those world differences. Maybe he'd leave out food tonight, since it seems this particular dog was still unsure about him.

Actually, he wondered if that's what the ninja was doing, too: investigating the new guy.

“Regardless, thanks for the help.” Minato grabbed another blank tag, hoping that a more accurate spiral would have better results. “It was a good idea to visit you.”

Axel couldn't help but ask, “But why visit _me_?”

The ninja paused, then slowly looked up at the civilian man he had, for some reason, reached out to for help with developing a technique. His expression was an interesting mix of clueless but confident, and he smiled.

“I don't know,” Minato said. “But I'm glad I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Well, Axel didn't introduce the combustion engine but he's already bringing in new ideas.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> In other news, since 2017 is finally coming to an end, I wish you all Happy Holidays and a Joyous New Year!
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month.  
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thanks again for any comments!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Guten Tag." = "Good day."  
> "Die Fibonacci-Folge!" = "The Fibonacci sequence!"
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	10. The New Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are talking about you, Axel.  
> This is exactly what you _didn't_ want to happen.

Minato absentmindedly tapped the wooden end of his brush against his drink, the audible clink dampened by what water he left in the glass. The wind chime hanging at the window rang in a gentle breeze. He had commandeered the kitchen since his desk wasn't nearly large enough to spread out everything (mental note: get a bigger desk). His scroll full of various sealing notes lay unrolled across the table in front of him, and Minato stared at the elegant spiral.

He was distracted: busy considering the person who had drawn it there.

Axel was, to be frank, kind of weird.

A good kind of weird. Just… different than he had come to expect.

It had been a few weeks since then, but Minato still had no clue why he had decided to seek out somebody he had only meet twice, kind of—and a civilian, no less!—and yet he still couldn't say it had been a bad decision. Far from it, actually, and that was a big portion of why he was so confused.

He'd stopped by several other times, just wanting to chat or maybe fish for more information about the spiral or, as he had come to discover, a whole slew of other random tidbits. His scroll of notes was getting rather crowded with theories and thoughts and the occasional attempt at explanation written in by Axel in large careful script. Most of Axel's notes had drawings to go with them, to clarify any issues in his writing.

The last time Minato had visited, just the other day, the store had appeared to be up and running; the shelves were built and stocked with everything from basic civilian tools (which were, perhaps, a little over represented for a smithy in a shinobi village) to tools of a more… _deadly_ variety.

Since he'd blown up a good number of the regular kunai he had had on hand, Minato had bought a small set of ten. In a mildly interesting coincidence, although he had only chosen based on how the throwing knife felt in his hand, all ten he had chosen off the rack had been made by Axel rather than Morimoto.

With a quiet noise of a jingling key, and a soft swoosh of familiar chakra to temporarily disarm the various security seals on the front door, someone let themselves in. Then there was a pause.

“Yo, Minato, you here still?” called Kushina in that brusque, to-the-point way of hers. She could sneak with the best of them, and often her directness _was_ just a cover for something sneakier, but not now.

“Yes?” Minato looked up to smile at her as she walked in. “Welcome home.”

She quirked one red eyebrow at his relaxed greeting, and then ran a cursory glance over the latest mess he had brought to their kitchen table. Then a more focused one, once she took in just what project he had laid out. “Is this that sealing thing you've been on about for the past few weeks but haven't let me help with?”

“I let you help at the start!” he objected. “Then you tried to commandeer the entire project, so I kept it to myself.”

Snorting a bemused laugh, Kushina shook her head slowly: couldn't argue with that. She pulled out another chair and sat down across from him, reading through the notes on the scroll with increasing interest.

A good deal of it—well, most, to be honest—was in her boyfriend's familiarly tidy handwriting. Less often, but always with a sort of confidence in content, was another script; the lines themselves were uncertain, but, unlike the 'what-if's from Minato's scribbles, these seemed to be explanatory.

After reading one such note and looking over the image next to it, Kushina paraphrased, “Triangles are strong shapes in architecture stuff, so they could be strong for seals. Ya know, that… does sorta make sense.”

Minato nodded distractedly as he considered a list of increasing numbers. He tapped the number '3' contemplatively, followed by the numbers '5' and '8'. Thinking aloud, he said, “I feel like these come up a lot.”

Taking the shift from her topic to his in stride, Kushina simply asked, “Comes up in what?”

“Just…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Like the _Five_ Elements Seal. Or, well—” tapping the '8' again, “—there's the whole _Eight_ Sign Sealing Style.”

“What about the Four Symbols Seals? Four seems to come up a lot as well.” She could see what he meant, however, since, although she offered up a counter example, her mind had thought of far more that matched those numbers in some way.

Minato frowned slightly. “I know, but basically all the other ones I think of fit this sequence.”

“'Sequence'?”

“1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, and so on,” explained Minato. “The next number is the sum of the previous two.”

Having joined him in staring at the list of numbers, Kushina thought for a few minutes, then slowly proposed, “Ya know, the first three add up to four.”

For a moment he just blinked at the numbers he had written, and then, smiling, he sat back in his chair. “And 3 is even the next number _after_ the first three, making it the fourth number with the previous summing to 4. Not to mention how layering a pair of Four Symbols Seals, an 8, is stronger in general.” Minato shook his head in amazement. “How did Axel come up with this?”

Kushina tilted her head, long red hair shifting through the motion like water; she had thought she'd met all of Minato's close friends, but apparently not. “…Uh, who?”

“Brandt Axel.” Distractedly taking down more notes on what they'd just figured out and thinking back to the first time he'd met Axel, he added, “I nearly blew them up with a defective seal, and later, on somewhat of a whim, I went back to have someone to bounce ideas off of.”

Frowning, Kushina proceeded to make an assumption that was as humorous as it was wrong. “Well, if these notes are any indication, at least she was able to help.”

“Yeah, I wasn't— Uh… 'she'? You think Axel—?” Minato tried not to laugh at the unbidden thought of his blacksmith friend in a dress, then tried to correct her. “No, no, Axel isn't a— Why would you think—? I mean, sure the name's a bit odd, but—”

Seeing her frown become ever so slightly more pronounced as he tripped over himself trying to fix the misunderstanding did _not_ help him stay collected. Indeed, talking around swallowed laughter was incredibly difficult.

Glancing up at the clock, Kushina peevishly asked, “Weren't you meeting with Kakashi-kun today, ya know?”

Minato blinked at the abrupt topic change, but nodded an affirmative before looking over to check the time as well. Still caught up in the hilarity of his girlfriend's mistake, it took him a moment to recognize that it was about five minutes till noon.

And noon was, of course, the time he had agreed to meet his ever-punctual student.

Oh dear.

In a flurry of motion, the scrolls on the table were rolled back up and sealed away. Or at least, most of them were. Some notes he left out, just in case Kushina wanted to look over them further. Then, standing up so fast his chair nearly slammed into the wall, Minato ran for the door. His arms were still full of various sealing tools, but he had more important things to do than worry about tidying up right this instant.

Still, he paused. “Er, sorry to just—”

“Get going,” she said, waving him off. “I'll be angrier at you being late than I will be because you ran off mid-conversation.”

Smiling gratefully, Minato gave a quick goodbye and was off at close to top speed. Still staring at where her boyfriend had vanished, Kushina was left to wonder just who this strange—she tried to wrap her head around that name and couldn't quite manage— _new someone_ was.

 

=X=X=X=

 

It wasn't so much that Minato-sensei was late, Kakashi mused to himself, but rather that he _wasn't_ early.

Kakashi had arrived at their usual training ground with about fifteen minutes to spare. That was usually more that enough time, given Minato-sensei was nearly always already at the meeting spot before his student. Contrary to what was usual, however, was that today his sensei had yet to appear.

Of course Kakashi wasn't _really_ that concerned. The young shinobi shot a speculative look in the direction of the Hokage Monument and, more to the point, the Hokage's office.

He was just… wondering _why_ Minato-sensei was late.

But, before Kakashi could _definitely not_ tie his insides up with worry, and just a minute shy of their scheduled time, his sensei appeared at the front of their training field in a flurry of leaves and paper.

…Paper?

As Kakashi jogged over, he saw that there were indeed several partly unrolled scrolls strewn about. He caught one sheet of paper before it could be carried away by any stray breezes. Minato-sensei knelt to quickly gather them all up, offering his student an apologetic smile.

“Sorry I'm so late today,” he said, and the scrolls he had gathered up were sealed away with a puff of chakra smoke. “I lost track of time.”

Kakashi was about to state his blunt opinion on punctuality—and maybe also ask about _what_ could have been so distracting—when he glanced down at the paper he had grabbed. It looked like one of his sensei's usual unorganized note sheets, until he noticed that more than half of the page was filled with handwriting he didn't recognize. After curiously reading through some of it, he had to admit to _some_ interest; whoever this other person was, no matter how childish some of their lettering or wording might be, they knew what they were writing about.

It only took a moment to collect the rest of the pages and seal them away, and Kakashi noticed that virtually every sheet had at least some scribbles written in that unfamiliar handwriting. He resisted the urge to ask about it.

He was fairly sure Minato-sensei noticed his curiosity, despite his efforts to appear disinterested. But, rather than provide an answer, his sensei simply moved onto the task at hand. “Okay, today we will be—” he suddenly paused, then slapped one hand to his forehead in annoyance. “I forgot the box. Be right back.”

The blond shinobi crouched to touch the ground with one hand, leaving behind his signature mark. Then, between one blink and the next, he was gone. Kakashi felt himself frown slightly: Minato-sensei wasn't one to just forget things like that. Whatever had been distracting him must have been very interesting indeed.

“I'm back.”

It was hard to keep himself from jolting in surprise—even with the advantage of having seen the technique before—but Kakashi managed. A box full of something with a familiar metallic smell was dropped at his feet with a clatter, and, after dusting off his hands, Minato-sensei grinned a satisfied smile.

“Okay.” He opened the box to reveal a heap of kunai, all of various conditions and sizes and weights. “Today we'll be focusing on this.”

Kakashi looked over the collection carefully, then took what looked to be a fairly average kunai from the box. It turns out that it definitely _wasn't_ : the knife weighed far more than it should have. Though he was beginning to get an idea of what his sensei had planned, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Often you might find yourself fighting with equipment that isn't your own: maybe you grabbed it off an enemy, or are forced to borrow a teammate's.” Ignoring the slightly derisive gleam that entered his student's eyes at the subtle suggestion that he would be part of a team in the future, he continued, “It's best to be familiar with subpar equipment, just in case.”

Humming to himself in consideration, Kakashi dropped the heavy kunai back into the box and chose another: it looked newer than the rest, and nothing about it seemed damaged in any way. He held it up, questioning.

His sensei nodded, and added, “Of course, some of the kunai are good quality. I bought that one just a few days ago. You won't know which sort you've got to throw until it's in your hand.”

Another quiet hum, and then Kakashi turned sharply and launched the knife at the targets. It hit dead-center, right where he had been aiming, with a very satisfying _thunk_. A perfect shot.

That throw felt—somehow, for some reason—better than usual.

Looking from the kunai now half-embedded in wood, to his hands that had lodged it there, Kakashi frowned ever so slightly.

Noticing this, Minato-sensei asked, “What is it?”

He didn't answer right away, instead thoughtfully drawing out one of his own kunai from his pouch. After regarding the weapon for a moment, Kakashi again threw at the target. Again it struck right where he had wanted it to, but it felt different. It was a noticeable difference, too, like comparing older shoes that fit perfectly with an unfamiliar new pair.

And it made no sense, because it hadn't been his own kunai that felt most comfortable in his hand.

Almost unconsciously, curiosity driving his actions, Kakashi took another kunai from his pouch and reached out to pair it with another from the box.

Minato-sensei watched this, and he got a knowing glint in his eye. “Ah, so you've noticed already?”

Suspicious of his teacher's almost nonchalant tone—nonchalant shinobi are _always_ up to something—the student gave him his full attention once more. It would seem that there might be more to this lesson than simply acquainting oneself with a wide variety of otherwise familiar tools. “…What do you mean?”

“Here,” Minato-sensei said, carefully selecting several more average kunai from the box. “Mix these in with your own and practice.”

After Kakashi accepted the knives, his sensei made a single hand sign to cast a subtle but thorough masking genjutsu. Now the box kunai looked exactly the same as his own, and neither had any defining scents. It was a bit disconcerting, to be honest, though Kakashi simply shuffled the weapons and refused to acknowledge that feeling.

“I see where you're going with this,” he said, setting aside all but one of the now indistinguishable kunai. Turning it over in his hands, Kakashi tried to guess whether it was one of his own knives or not.

Walking down range toward the targets, Minato-sensei called out, “Go ahead, throw it.”

Trusting his sensei's skill, Kakashi did so. Just as the others had, the kunai struck true.

“Well?” Minato tugged the kunai from the log. “Was this one of yours?”

Kakashi, expression contemplative, shook his head. Then he threw the next one.

They worked their way through the small collection of mixed knives, and, depending on his answer, Minato-sensei sorted the disguised weapons into one of two stacks. When he was out of weapons to throw, Kakashi joined him by the knives and his sensei dropped the genjutsu.

The smaller collection of kunai were all ones taken from the box, no exceptions, while the large stack had all of his and only three that were not. He had to admit, that was an unexpectedly high success rate.

“I almost got them all correct.”

“Actually,” Minato-sensei said, crouching by the stack of Kakashi's kunai to pick up the three unfamiliar ones. “You guessed correctly for all of them, given what I was trying to show.”

Kakashi frowned behind his mask. “But I missed those three, Sensei.”

As the blond shinobi tucked away the kunai in question, he shook his head. Gesturing to the smaller stack and seemingly veering off topic, he asked, “Why did you single these out?”

“Those felt different, so they couldn't have been mine. Throwing them was…” Hesitating, not sure how his gut answer could be right since it didn't make any sense, Kakashi drifted off.

“Easier, right?”

He nodded.

“I noticed something like that, too,” Minato-sensei explained with a smile. “And there is one major difference between these two stacks: who made them.” He pointed to the small stack. “Axel made all of these.”

Kakashi blinked. “…Who's 'Ak-ser'?”

“Wait, haven't I—” He cut himself off, looking rather surprised at himself. “I haven't introduced you yet?”

The blond shinobi suddenly seemed to notice something just behind his student, and his blue eyes lit up with happy surprise. At the edge of his vision, Kakashi thought he saw something move into the trees. He didn't get a good look before he was quite thoroughly distracted.

“Yeah, come on, Minato-kun,” came a teasing voice, and a heavy weight—an arm—draped across Kakashi's shoulders. “Why haven't you introduced us?”

Startled, though his mask helped hide it, Kakashi tried to jerk himself away. “Release me, Jiraiya- _sensei_.” He tried to cram as much annoyance as possible to the added title, but the eccentric shinobi didn't even seem to notice.

“Ne, Chibi-kun, don't look so peeved.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Call you what? Peeved?”

Kakashi couldn't help but growl under his breath, though he tried to keep a lid on it.

Of course, Minato-sensei would have been perfectly content to just watch them bicker—he'd done so before—but this time he chose to step in. “I wasn't expecting you to be back for another few days, Jiraiya-sensei.”

Dramatically, the white-haired shinobi gestured grandly at the village. “I couldn't bear to stay away: I haven't seen my precious student in months!” His smile became slightly… twisted. “And, of course, all the _lovely ladies_. Truly, nowhere else can compare to Konoha's beauties.”

“In case you couldn't tell,” Kakashi bit out, “none of those 'beauties' are anywhere near here.”

“Ah, but Chibi-kun—”

“Don't call me that.”

Jiraiya-sensei looked set to continue as if he hadn't even heard him, but he was cut off by a slightly reprimanding tone. “Sensei…”

“Heh heh, well.” He coughed, a little sheepish, then completely changed the subject. “Anyway, who _is_ this guy you mentioned? He wouldn't happen to be that new blacksmith in the abandoned district, would he?”

From Minato-sensei's expression, it would seem so. Which meant that both of them knew who this 'Akser' person is, while he was left in the dark. Kakashi didn't like being left in the dark. “Wait, so who _is_ 'Ak-ser'?”

“He's a friend,” provided Minato-sensei briefly, before moving onto his own questions. “But I'm more interested in how _you_ knew about him.”

“It's my job to know. I've been hearing some rumors among the civilians.”

That led into an anecdote the older shinobi had overheard about fishermen and gloves and sharp knives that felt somehow easier to use than others. Kakashi, while interested, didn't catch much of it since he was distracted by an unexpected smell: snake. He subtly glanced toward the trees, over to where he had thought he had seen motion earlier.

A white tail vanished into the undergrowth.

 

=X=X=X=

 

The serpent dismissed itself with a puff of chakra smoke, leaving his master to muse over its report.

Orochimaru had assigned that particular snake to a reconnaissance detail. Unfortunately, due to a surprisingly persistent pair of stray dogs, his snakes had been unable to get a good position to monitor the subject of interest directly and still remain completely undetected. The next best thing, though still difficult, was to spy on the one person who seemed to be on familiar terms with the subject: that upstart Namikaze Minato.

This latest report was particularly interesting.

He steepled his fingers, looking over the various data he had gathered over the past weeks with a careful eye. By now, the shinobi had checked over the information several times. It was frustrating to admit, but he still had no answers.

Tapping at the subject's name at the top of one sheet of paper—a crude phonetic spelling—Orochimaru found himself smiling.

“Fascinating,” he murmured to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Wow, this chapter was a bit hard to write—the holidays are so distracting. Plus I had so much trouble choosing who would show up and what points I'd hit, but I think (and hope) that it pulled together well.  
> So we've jumped forward a few weeks, and Axel has got the shop up and running. Minato's coming over fairly regularly, and so has firmly inserted himself into Axel's life; this, of course, being despite Axel's decision to avoid ninja. Plus, much to his chagrin, it seems that people are talking about the peculiar blacksmith in the abandoned district. Wonder what he'll do about that.
> 
> By the way, I'm curious; what do you think might be the reason why Axel's knives feel so easy or comfortable to use?
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of every month (though it was pretty late today).  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! Can you believe that we just past 10,000 views over on fanfiction.net?! And here we've just passed 500 hits! I can't possibly thank you all enough, and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	11. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ninja can be such gossips.

Ninja are curious people. It's in their very nature.

Unfortunately for Axel, who had decided that he would try very hard not to catch the attention of the ninja community, he is a bit of a puzzle. For one thing, he's running a business out of a house in the abandoned district: the place where nobody bothered to set up shop because they wouldn't get any customers. For another, Axel is… blunt isn't _quite_ the right word, but something like that. He tends to say what he means, and doesn't bother with burying things underneath the underneath.

Perhaps, on a very basic level, the ninja simply find it strange that Axel is _normal_.

For a given definition of 'normal', at least. By his own standards: yes. By the standards of the world he was born in: also yes, though maybe with a little less conviction, given he had gone to university five years younger than most people.

But by the standards of this world?— No.

Because Axel has never been very good at being sneaky or scheming. And he doesn't like to lie.

Which isn't to say that everyone in the ninja world was sneaky or scheming or a liar, but simply that those traits are an accepted part of the culture—for civilians and ninja alike.

Plus, in addition to his poor choice for shop location, he's really not much of a businessman either.

“What?!” yelped the white-haired ninja, looking across the room to Axel with an almost comical expression of shock. “These can't cost _that_ much!”

Axel simply stared back from behind his open notebook, He had been distracting himself—or attempting to, at least—since this guy first walked in: trying to keep his emotions under-wraps as he interacted with the _definitely-no-longer-fictional_ person before him.

Writing always seemed to help him organize his thoughts, which was why he'd gotten the little notebook in the first place. Unfortunately for him, he had been filling it with half-remembered plot points from when this whole… _everything_ had just been an anime.

Which, naturally, made it kind of hard to distract himself from how completely _not_ -anime the person before him was.

Really, he had positively no clue what could have possessed _Jiraiya_ , of all people, to drop in on his shop.

And _of course_ Axel had recognized  him—even in the show he had stood out as an _interesting_ character (for lack of a better term). He had nearly had a heart attack when he realized who had just walked in; when Axel had looked up from his notes and seen, well, _him_ … suffice to say that it was lucky he had already been sitting down.

Though he hadn't expected Jiraiya to be quite so tall. Or to behave so much like he was portrayed in the show: a bit counterintuitive, perhaps, but it still surprised him. The guy really _could_ be that flamboyantly dramatic when the mood struck him, which it apparently had.

“Why not?” Axel asked, wondering if he should have pitched a lower price; he wanted Jiraiya to find whatever it was he wanted, buy it, and leave as soon as possible.

The white-haired ninja looked positively scandalized. “What do you mean 'Why not'?!” He picked up one of the shuriken, checking it over carefully. “This is worth at least thrice that amount!”

So it would seem that his half-baked plan to hurry the ninja out of the shop backfired somewhat.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just look at it!” Jiraiya exclaimed, holding the shuriken dramatically up to the light where, if it hadn't had a matte-black finish, it would have shone in the store lighting. “Its keen edge! Its comfortable balanced weight! And its… certain something else!”

“What 'certain something else'?” Axel asked, then could have smacked himself for doing so; he wanted this ninja out of the shop, not sticking around to answer questions.

It didn't matter, though, since the question was brushed aside.

“I simply cannot allow you to continue this mispricing practice!”

He really wanted to curse, but the language barrier—as much as he had improved since his arrival—kept him from being able to articulate exactly how frustrated he was. So, unfortunately, he settled for mentally cussing the ninja out in the privacy of his own mind.

Before Axel had a chance to move on from internal swears to hopefully-more-civil spoken words, there was a noise that sounded very much like a startled dog followed by the door to the shop swinging open with boisterous energy.

Well, this wasn't _entirely_ unexpected. Though the timing was a little unfortunate.

“Brandt Axs-er-san!” The voice was loud, rambunctious, and, by virtue of repeated visits, familiar. Gai leapt into view with his signature beaming smile. “Surely today's attempt—!” Seeing two people where he expected only one, the kid screeched to a halt mid-sentence.

After their first encounter at the village gates, the young ninja had apparently (inexplicably) turned his superhuman determination onto correcting his pronunciation. As for why… well, Axel honestly had no clue. Regardless of reasons, the spandex-wearing ball of exuberance had taken to bursting in every other day to take another shot at getting his name right.

And so it was that Axel had at least gotten used to _one_ of the people in this village that he recognized from the show—if just barely, and he still mistook him for Rock Lee sometimes.

Two people, in fact, if he counted Minato as well. And he had the nagging feeling that he really should, even though he couldn't quite recall seeing him in the first two seasons. He knew that Minato was in the show, somewhere, just not _where_.

(He was avoiding his laptop, actually, precisely because he didn't want to know. Even if it _would_ be helpful for filling in his notebook.)

Right now, though, Gai was a welcome distraction.

“Brandt Axel.”

“Brandt Axs-erl,” Gai repeated. “Ax-er-l.”

Personally, Axel thought it was close enough. He had for some days now, and he had told him as much, but Gai remained unconvinced. For a minute or so Gai parroted back pronunciation attempts, getting closer sometimes but never quite perfect.

Jiraiya simply watched with an amused sort of smile.

And when Gai left, it felt like far to soon.

It was quiet, though, and Axel flipped his notebook back open to try and keep it that way: maybe if he looked busy enough, the ninja wouldn't—

“Hey, where're you from anyway?”

His hand tensed, accidentally crinkling a few of the pages in his notebook. He carefully forced himself to relax and smooth out the creases.

This new topic veered rather drastically toward territory Axel wasn't keen on stumbling through: he couldn't lie very well, _especially_ not on the fly, and telling the truth is rather out of the question.

…Or was it?

“München,” answered Axel frankly, and it was hard to get the word past the lump in his throat. “It's, uh…” he tried to think of a safe descriptor, “…far.”

Spinning the shuriken, Jiraiya considered. “I haven't heard of anywhere called Mun-shen before.”

“It's—” _in another dimension entirely,_ “—gone now.”

Jiraiya went still, and an uncharacteristically solemn look crossed over his face. “Ah. I'm sorry.”

Not knowing how to respond, Axel just nodded and stared down at his notebook. The page it was open to had a list of character names he could remember, most of them probably misspelled. Most of them probably weren't even born yet.

How peculiar, he thought, distantly.

It was with a determined gathering of will that he pulled his attention back to the here and now, and he tried to smile. He could feel that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“It's alright,” Axel lied. “Are you interested in buying anything?”

Tossing the shuriken from one hand to the other, Jiraiya nodded. “Only if you let me pay what it's worth.”

 

=X=X=X=

 

As soon as the white-haired menace finally— _finally!_ —went on his way, Axel felt about ready to collapse. The adrenaline, though he wasn't sure what about the conversation had been so stressful (other that the whole, well, _it was Jiraiya_ ), was draining away and left him feeling almost numb.

The reality—his _new_ reality—was apparently still settling in.

Feeling a little light-headed, still reeling from the unexpectedness of it all, he managed to make his way out the back door. Then on through the forge, where Morimoto looked up from some work with a small frown of worry.

Axel waved off Morimoto's concern.

He just needed some air, that was all.

Sometimes… sometimes it all seemed to hit him at once: who these people actually are, where he really was. Is.

Axel heavily plopped down at the edge of what was probably technically the backyard of a neighboring building, resting his head on his knees.

“Wieder mal,” he groaned to himself. “Wieder, wieder, und wieder—! Warum kann ich nicht…”

He thought he'd be over this by now. It's been weeks, after all.

Sighing, Axel pressed a hand over his eyes.

Denial isn't healthy, he knows that. And yet, that's exactly how he's been functioning: simply pretending he wasn't stuck here, in this… this anime-manga-real-life fiasco. Pretending this was all just an event or a vacation or a dream.

After a few minutes trying to just focus on his breathing, Axel felt something bump his foot. He cracked open one eye, lifting his hand slightly to be able to see what it was.

It was the dachshund again.

Axel blinked at him for a moment, and an unbidden smile pulled at his lips. The dog had sat down near enough to touch, but seemed to be determinedly looking in the opposite direction. It was like the dachshund was trying to look like he didn't care: pretending like he had walked over for no reason, and certainly not because he was worried or anything.

“Danke.” He cautiously lowered a hand to gently touch the top of the dog's head. On the off chance that he could be understood—this was ninja-magic-world, after all—Axel repeated, “Thanks.”

The dachshund looked up at him, or, more to the point, at his hand. Huffing a quiet bark, the dog stood, seemed to consider something, turned twice, and then lay down with his head resting on Axel's foot.

The companionship, so simple and peaceful, cast a delicate calm over him. He let himself relax back into the wall slightly, just enjoying the chance to think. And indeed, he found he _could_ think further than his own breathing again. This was, understandably, a huge relief.

Honestly, the past month or so was throwing Axel into more panic attacks than he had ever thought he'd encounter.

But counting up minor (or less minor, sometimes) panic attacks was not the best way to spend his time right now. What he needed to do was figure out a plan going forward: something that could help prevent future anxiety-inducing encounters.

So, staring up at the sky, Axel thought.

People had been talking about him.

Never mind that he had no clue _why_ , the fact was that it happened. It had to have happened, otherwise there was no reason he could think of for somebody like _Jiraiya_ to pop in to look around.

Probably.

Which meant that his solution could be keeping people from talking about him or the shop. Somehow. He wasn't sure how to make it more difficult to talk about the shop, given it's not as though the shop actually had a _name_ —

Now _there's_ an idea.

“Vielleicht…” he murmured to himself, considering the option. Then he nodded.

It could work. Maybe.

Hopefully.

From where he had been snoozing, head pillowed on Axel's foot, the dachshund yawned and glanced up to see what the slight motion had been about.

The dachshund eyed him for a moment, and Axel managed a small smile.

Another second of consideration, before, with an oddly satisfied nod, the dog stretched and stood up; it was time to head off, apparently, now that the human didn't need comforting.

Watching the small dog leave, Axel noticed that there was another larger dog waiting at the other side of the yard. This dog—a girl—was brown, significantly larger than the dachshund, and very _very_ fluffy. She also looked kind of smug for some reason, and the dachshund, once he noticed her, seemed almost peeved. Or maybe embarrassed.

It's not as if Axel really knew how to decipher dog body language—beyond wagging, anyway.

He couldn't be sure, but it looked almost like the dogs where bickering. Chuckling slightly, Axel waved at the pair of them. The dachshund stuck up his nose and turned away, but his tail gave a few telling wags. The girl dog, seeing this, barked what sounded like a very pleased bark.

He unfolded his legs, letting them stretch out as he could finally relax, and leaned back into the wall. It was nice, just having that quiet companionship as he gathered himself back up. Standing, he dusted the dirt off his pants and pulled open the door to the forge, ready to head back inside.

And when he looked back across the yard one last time, the two dogs were gone.

“Are… are you alright, Axel?”

He felt the hand on his shoulder, and managed to give Morimoto an almost genuine smile.

“Yes,” he answered. Then, “Well, mostly. I have an idea.”

 

=X=X=X=

 

Axel was finally making a sign for his shop, and—in an ironic contrast to what signs are usually built for—he hoped it would help prevent people from talking about him. It had taken a while to choose the perfect name. It had to be virtually unpronounceable for this plan to work.

After all, they can't talk about his shop if they can't even say its name. Right?

He would, of course, look back on that optimism with something akin to embarrassment; but for now it really seemed to be the ideal plan.

Forging the letters he needed hadn't been all that hard, although some of the finer details were a bit tricky to keep strong. The issue of what to mount them on was neatly resolved by Minato, on accident. The ninja had once again blown up some of the nearby forest in his seal testing, resulting in a perfect (if slightly charred) log for his use. Personally, Axel thought the metal lettering—a Germanic font, just to look extra cool and, more to the point, confusing—looked fantastic on what was basically a misplaced tree trunk.

There was a _thump_ of something landing upstairs.

Axel glanced up at the ceiling then toward the staircase, largely unconcerned. It was a noise he was becoming quite familiar with, after all. No matter how much it annoyed him, he was fairly sure that this was going to be one of those things he'd just need to get used to. He suspected that the noise was actually a sort of polite courtesy: ninja _could_ move silently, after all.

Minato, having entered from a window on the second floor, jumped down the stairs and rounded the corner with a cheerful hello.

“Guess who finally _probably_ figured out where the seal kept going wrong!” the ninja said, happily brandishing a small scroll that probably had the aforementioned seal drawn on it. “And _this_ time I'm pretty sure I've got it right!”

Which might not mean very much, actually, seeing as the very piece of wood he was nailing letters into had come from an earlier version of the seal that Minato had claimed to be confident in: a version that, in addition to being explosive, had caught a good portion of the training ground on fire.

So his skeptical expression was somewhat justified. “Have you?”

“It wasn't timing at all!” Minato continued, which could kind of be considered an answer. “The new spiral improved it tremendously, yes, but the true problem was the outer seal _six_ -point array. Six! Of course that wouldn't work well, it's off sequence—”

Axel had only the absolute barest of understanding for what he was ranting about. “Minato. What?”

The ninja paused, remembering that he was talking to a friend who, while occasionally helpful, didn't _actually_ know about the written ninja magics. “Right! Right, so how to explain…”

Not bothering to stand from where he was kneeling on the floor, Axel just smacked down his mallet once more to securely nail in one of the metal letters. There was only nail left to hammer down now, and then the sign would be complete. Kind of, anyway. He'd still need to actually put it out front, but that would be easy enough.

Especially if he could get some help from Minato.

“Anyway… what are you working on, Axel?” The blond ninja in question walked over, apparently choosing to drop whatever he had stopped by for in favor of his own curiosity. After a moment, he seemed to recognize the log. “Oh! Is this your shop sign?”

Axel nodded. “I've come up with a name,” he explained, looking both proud and somewhat like he was making a joke only he understood. Even when he had asked for the wood, he hadn't yet figured out what the sign should actually say.

With a grin, Minato lightly chided, “Well, it's about time. The store's been open for weeks!”

Holding the last nail in place—the bottom of a lowercase 'r'—Axel gave it a few taps with the mallet to get it started. Then, with a few more stronger hits, the final nail was in. He sat back to look over his handiwork, and Minato peered at it in fascinated confusion.

Which, fair enough: the store name wasn't written in any language the ninja could know of. As such, the sign for the shop was completely illegible, in a manner of speaking. It was a series of nine symbols that probably looked like nonsense geometric patterns to anyone from this world.

But to Axel, the sign was a word—or, to be technical, a name: “Excalibur.”

“What?” Minato asked, wondering if he had heard that correctly. “Is that… the name?”

“Excalibur,” repeated Axel, smiling. The name had been specially chosen to be hard to say, with the hope that it would be bothersome enough that people simply wouldn't talk about it. “It is a legen, er, legernd… Is a special sword from stories.”

Even as Minato tried to puzzle out how the odd image could be read as such an odd word, he still thought to correct his friend's mistake. “Did you mean 'legendary'?”

“Probably.”

Still staring at the positively unreadable symbols, Minato had to ask, “How is this… what you said?”

Axel, for a moment, had no idea how to respond; after all, he'd never been asked to properly explain _the alphabet_ before. When he couldn't figure it out, he decided to just roll with his most default response: Axel shrugged.

But of course the ninja wouldn't—or maybe couldn't—let that stand. Axel knew Minato well enough by now and, perhaps even more importantly, had been included in enough discussions about that written ninja magic stuff to guess that Minato was always interested in new symbols or concepts that could be incorporated into his explosive designs. These peculiar scribbles were probably, to him, utterly fascinating.

“Axel,” Minato urged, “Please?”

“Ach, warum musst du so sein?” he grumbled under his breath, not caring how unintelligible the words would be to Minato. The ninja, that friendly weirdo, always seemed to be a mix of delighted and confused when Axel slipped into German.

“So… does that mean you'll tell me?”

“Maybe,” Axel allowed. “But I'll only explain this once.”

Minato looked unconcerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Axel is doing his best to adjust, but he's also trying to avoid being sucked into ninja nonsense. I have bad news for you, Axel… that's not gonna work out.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates come of the 15th of each month.  
> Thank you all so much for enjoying this story. And extra thanks to everyone who's left a comment; I read them all for motivation and inspiration. You guys are all awesome!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Wieder mal." = "Yet again."  
> "Wieder, wieder, und wieder—! Warum kann ich nicht…" = "Again, again, and again—! Why can't I…"  
> "Danke." = "Thanks."  
> "Vielleicht…" = "Perhaps…"  
> "Ach, warum musst du so sein?" = "Oh, why do you have to be like that?"
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	12. Not Working as Intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axel really didn't think his plan through all the way.

Akaiko was a bit concerned, to be honest.

She watched the house with a careful eye, occasionally probing with chakra to check that the house still felt just as empty as before. Of the two people living there, only one had a signature she could detect: the civilian named Morimoto Hiroshi. He was out at the moment.

The other resident was tall, blond, and if she hadn't spotted him earlier when he walked past a window, she wouldn't have known he was in the building.

So yes, it was a little disconcerting.

When she was assigned this mission, she had been warned that there was a supposed civilian who could hide his chakra well enough to fool high level shinobi. Considering who had reluctantly brought the information to the Hokage's attention, well…

Orochimaru might freak her out, but he had definitely earned his reputation. If it was something that could sneak past him, it was only natural to be interested.

But now, two and a half days after accepting the mission, she was having second thoughts.

Because it was, in every sense, a perfectly boring reconnaissance detail.

Okay, so that's not entirely true. There had been a brief altercation early on the very first day with a pair of ninken-turned-strays, but they left her alone when they realized she had to be there under the Hokage's orders.

One of the perks of being a uniformed ANBU, she supposed.

Akaiko carefully adjusted her mask and tried not to yawn. It was especially uninteresting to keep watch when she didn't even have her partner on hand to annoy— talk to. Inochi apparently had clan business, and had thus taken leave for a week: something about her cousin, Inoichi, finally getting hitched.

Cue mental scoff.

On a tangential note—and because there was nothing more interesting to think about—Akaiko had to wonder about the tendency clans had to name everyone with a similar pattern. All the Yamanakas seemed to be obsessed with starting names with 'Ino-', and the Naras like to use 'Shika-'. It made it easy to guess which clan somebody might belong to, but it's such a pain to keep track of everyone.

Plus people in a clan tend to look similar as well, so the issue was two-fold. Sure, she could do it—she _was_ an ANBU, after all—but honestly.

Motion outside her target's house caught her attention, pulling her mind from its drifting. But alas, it was nothing interesting: just Namikaze Minato again. Given the past few days, the blond not-her-target seemed to stop by at least once a day to hang out with his… friend? Yes, she supposed that was correct.

A little peculiar, to be sure: shinobi don't often make friends—meaning _real_ friends, not just business partners or convenient acquaintances—with civilians.

He leapt to an open window on the second floor, perched for an instant on the sill, then vanished inside.

She followed his movement through the house by tracking his chakra. Based on where Namikaze's signature had stopped, she'd guess that her target was in the back room, separate from the part that had been turned into the store.

Curious, and without her partner there to talk her out of it, Akaiko decided to get a closer look.

Careful to keep her chakra restrained and muted—doubly so, since she was trying to sneak up on at least one sensor—Akaiko jumped from her little surveillance base and crept up to the side of the house.

For a split second, she reconsidered. After all, she was just here to run reconnaissance on this strange new maybe-maybe-not civilian. There was no real reason beyond curiosity compelling her to move closer.

But she was a shinobi—curiosity is basically part of the job description.

Enhancing her ears with the barest trickle of chakra let her listen in on the conversation.

“—instead of one character being a… a, uhm.” There was a pause, and the oddly-accented voice sounded vaguely frustrated. “I don't know the word.”

Even knowing that her target was in there as well, it still came as a surprise to hear an unfamiliar voice when her chakra sensing told her that there should only be one person in there.

The next voice to speak was definitely Namikaze, who suggested, “Maybe 'syllable'?”

“Is that like 'char' in 'character'?” There was a pause where, presumably, Namikaze nodded. “Then yes. So instead, each is part of that.”

Akaiko could hear some papers shifting, then the scratch of pencil writing something. She was kind of annoyed that now, limited to listening as she was, she couldn't tell what he was doing.

“Fascinating,” said Namikaze, a moment after the scribbling sounds stopped.

This made Akaiko even more peeved that she couldn't see what he'd written.

“Sure,” replied Akus— uhm, her target.

When she was first given this assignment, she had spent several minutes trying to figure out the name listed in the mission files. It was written as 'Buranto Akuseru'—which was weird enough—but then it _also_ had a note that this was only an approximation for his actual name. Whatever _that_ meant.

After writing some more, there was a quiet but distinct tap. The accented voice said, “This is the… I don't even know if you have a word for it.”

“But _you_ do, right?”

There was a pause, then: “Alphabet.”

Namikaze snorted in amusement—or at least, Akaiko _assumed_ it was amusement. “I have no idea how you come up with these things!”

Under her breath, Akaiko couldn't help but murmur the odd word to herself. Or try to, at least. “'Arufabet'?”

“I _don't_ come up with them,” grumbled her target, sounding vaguely annoyed and… maybe sad? With just his voice, it was hard to discern between what was emotion and what was just his odd accent.

“Anyway,” it seems Namikaze has chosen to change the subject, “how do you write my name?”

Akaiko sat back against the wall as the sounds of writing returned, and wondered just what this strange 'arufabet' thing looked like. Wondered how her own name would appear, written differently from how she had always seen it.

She had never really liked her name all that much. Honestly, nobody had ever accused the orphanage of having _creative naming sense_ , but they could have put in a little more effort than 'red child'.

And it only got worse when she was saddled with the red fish mask and the ANBU codename 'Koi'. She was fairly sure that choice had been made for the pure word play; meaning she had gone from 'red child' to 'red fish'—what an upgrade.

On the other side of the wall, she could hear Minato start listing other words he wanted to see written in this new way; he was going through colors now. He asked for green, yellow, orange, _red_ — and the beginnings of an idea formed in her mind.

One hand reached up and tapped the edge of her mask thoughtfully.

If Inochi were here, she would probably advise against this course of action. Yes, surely her ANBU partner would think this new idea stupid, unnecessary, and just generally _bad_. This was a surveillance mission, after all: protocol said she should _surveil_ the target at a distance and without them knowing.

But there was no reason she couldn't run her surveillance from up close.

Akaiko returned to her base of operations across the street, ill-advised plan in mind. After checking the area one last time to make sure she was in the clear, she took off her mask. The smooth porcelain was painted with a leaping fish. Tapping it to the tattoo on her shoulder sealed it away with the slightest puff of chakra smoke.

She was no longer acting as ANBU Koi.

Well, kind of; her mission would continue without her in uniform.

Pulling her brown hair out of the strict bun she always wore it in when working, she switched it to a loose braid. Fishing through the sealing scrolls she had on hand, she found a disguise that would suit her needs. She really only needed the clothes: a pair of dark blue pants and a comfortable pinkish blouse. The top used to be white, but she put it in the wrong wash. Several times.

She was ready.

Jumping back out of her base, Akaiko crossed the street and walked right up to the front door. It was locked. In fact, there was a sign hung up that declared the store to be closed.

Stepping back, she eyed the open window on the second floor.

Then again, the lock should be easy enough to pick.

And so it was. Tucking away her lock pick set, Akaiko opened the previously-locked door and stepped into the shop.

Taking a moment to scan the area, noting things ranging from civilian kitchenware to shuriken and more, she had to admit to being a little impressed. There was less of each item in-stock than she had seen in some of the village's other stores, but the sheer variety put those other smiths to shame. Especially since she could tell a lot of care and skill had gone into everything set out for sale.

She could hear Namikaze and her target still talking in the other room, so she walked through the shelves toward them. From the doorway, she saw that they were sitting on either side of what looked like a misplaced tree trunk, scroll unrolled on it as if it were a table.

“Hey,” she called out. “What're you guys up to?”

Namikaze looked up to her, smiling and perfectly relaxed. But there was an edge to his easy smile, as if he were judging whether or not she was a threat to his friend. She had the sneaking suspicion that he had known she was there the entire time: even when she had been eavesdropping from outside.

Her target took her arrival less gracefully, trying to twist around from his spot on the floor and nearly falling over for his trouble. Clearly he doesn't do well with being startled.

Then he looked up at her, annoyed, and she saw his eyes.

Blue. As blue as the sky at noon.

And while blue eyes weren't _particularly_ rare—take Namikaze, for one, and the entire Yamanaka clan, for another—his eyes were so… open. She wasn't really sure how to explain it.

“What?” he said, then decided to ask a better question. “Who are _you_!?”

“My name's Akaiko.”

“That's not the point!”

She cocked her head to the side. “So what is the point then?”

Namikaze looked inordinately amused at this whole deal. “I believe Axel wants to know what you're doing in his house.”

Akaiko blinked at the name—it was his first name, so he and Namikaze must be better friends than she first thought. Plus, well, she could see why they had needed to use an approximation in her files. She tried to say it, and felt like she got close: “Axer?”

“Axel,” he corrected, though she was pretty sure it was just an instinctive response. “Brandt Axel.”

She repeated, “Brandt Axel.”

Her target—Brandt—nodded, and looked faintly impressed. But then he frowned again, remembering the original issue. “So? Why are you here?”

Gesturing back at the shelves in the room behind her, Akaiko said, “Well, it's a store, isn't it?”

“It's closed right now,” Namikaze pointed out.

Brandt looked suddenly pale, and he glance in the direction of the front door with worry. “How did you even get in?”

“I picked the lock. Easy.”

“You just—” He pinched the bridge of his nose in clear consternation. “Ninja,” he mumbled under his breath, and the unfamiliar words had an almost mocking edge to them, “haben kein Konzept des persönlichen Raums.”

There was more, but it got too quiet to hear and likely remained as impossible to puzzle out, so she ignored it. With Brandt clearly distracted by his grumbling, Akaiko shot a questioning look to her fellow shinobi.

Namikaze just shrugged. “I was _told_ ,” he began, and the emphasis he put on the word made her think he wasn't quite convinced, “that it's a side effect of a particularly persistent genjutsu.”

She'd never heard of such a genjutsu, so she could see why he sounded doubtful. Still, it did make a certain sort of sense; she'd make sure to include it in her report, in any case.

“Anyway,” he continued, “Why _are_ you here? Because, as I said, the store _is_ closed right now.”

In answer, Akaiko sauntered over and plopped herself down across from her target; he glanced up at her warily, and she had to commend his instincts. She repeated the first thing she had said to them, as if none of the conversation between then and now had happened. “What're you guys up to?”

“What.”

“I want in,” she said.

With more stress: “ _What_. ”

Namikaze smiled again, and this time it wasn't judging her motives: it was just bright and friendly. “I think she wants in, Axel.”

“Great,” Brandt groaned, looking between his friend and her. “There's another one.”

Akaiko just grinned: she liked him already.

 

=X=X=X=

 

Axel squinted at the bright light—or near it, technically—as the scrap metal heated through red to white-hot, melting into a pool at the bottom of the crucible. At least he could get something useful out of the dull, chipped, and broken weapons; kunai and shuriken are basically disposable, so once broken they just aren't worth the time it would take to repair them.

It _was_ , however, well worth the effort to melt them down. No sense letting perfectly good metal go to waste in broken tools.

He quite purposefully turned his mind away from what those _tools_ were built to do.

When he judged it to be completely molten, he carefully moved to the mold he had set up: he'd shape the metal into a basic kunai, nothing special. With practiced ease—though it was always a tad nerve wracking—he poured the liquid metal into the mold. Now it was just a matter of waiting for it to cool.

Stepping back, Axel set to work cleaning up his tools and putting things away.

The odd woman who had intruded two days ago—Akaiko, his mind supplied—hadn't come by again, though she had made it clear that she planned on inviting herself over more in the future. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. Minato seemed okay with her, which was a good sign, but he was still undecided.

As for Minato himself, he had, for some reason, insisted on coming over today to sit in on some of the smithing process. Specifically for making kunai. As for _why_ he wanted to watch… Axel had no clue. Regardless, he was watching all of this with peculiar intensity, as if he expected Axel to pull some special trick partway through.

“Do you make most of your kunai from scrap?”

Axel shrugged. “Since you started bringing in enough for me to do that, yeah.”

With a considering hum, the other blond reached over to the worktable and picked up one of the nearly complete throwing knives: it still needed wrapping for it's grip, and a final sharpening. He weighed it in his hand. “You made this one.”

It was more of a statement than a question, which he though to be a little strange. Morimoto had made a good number of the kunai laying around, after all, since he was coaching Axel. As a simple hobbyist blacksmith, making things for fun or because a friend had requested something, he hadn't pursued some of the finer points of the skill.

“How'd you know I made it?”

Minato sighed, spinning the kunai around his finger. “That's what I'm trying to figure out.”

Which was, to be honest, a _very_ odd way of answering the question. It was only a half-step away from answering a question with another question, and as such still equally unhelpful.

Axel quirked an eyebrow, silently prompting for a better response.

“Well, I've noticed that the ones you make feel…” The ninja had to pause, gathering his thoughts. “They feel different, somehow. As if they're more familiar. I thought maybe you were doing something to the metal, but if you're just using scrap—”

“—then clearly I'm not,” Axel finished, thoughtful. “But, what do you mean by familiar?”

He considered the knife he held, and, after a contemplative moment, he gently tossed it blade-over-handle to catch it in his other hand. “Well, perhaps…” Minato chose his words carefully, as if working out an idea as he spoke, “My chakra flows through it naturally, easily, so it feels almost practiced in my hand. So I thought maybe you had done something.”

“How could I have, I don't even have—” Axel had to cut himself off one word shy of what would probably have been a very ill-advised confession: that he didn't _have_ chakra.

“Don't have what?”

In an attempt to steer the conversation away from his near slip-up, Axel turned his attention back to the cooling metal. “Let's go inside,” he said. “This will take a while.”

Minato frowned slightly, but, at least for the moment, he went along with the blatant deflection of his question. “Alright.”

They relocated to the kitchen, and Axel was a little disappointed that Morimoto hadn't returned from wherever he had gone; _he_ would have been able to distract the ninja. Probably. But, without that as an option, he just busied himself getting a couple of glasses of water and hoped the delay would be enough.

It wasn't.

“So,” Minato said, taking his glass and sipping some of the cool water. He was smiling in that way that meant he was about to cause a little trouble. “What is it you don't have?”

“Uhm.”

What a great start.

Then, luckily enough, there was a knock at the door.

“Gott sei Dank,” he murmured to himself. More loudly and perhaps a bit too eagerly, he invited whoever was there to come in. “It's unlocked!”

Minato smirked at him, seeing the escape for what it was.

The door opened to reveal… green. It was Gai. Which was unexpected, given the genin usually just burst in whenever he came for a visit. But perhaps he, of all the ninja out there, had actually respected the sign on the door that said the store was closed.

“I see you have finally named your fine store!” announced Gai almost immediately after opening the door, and he gestured toward where the log-turned-sign had been placed out front.

He nodded, pleased but also a tad concerned. Based on the kid's fixation on his name, Axel could guess why he'd wanted to come in: “I assume you want to know how to say it?”

Gai bounced on the balls of his feet, nodding excitedly.

Axel, rather suddenly, had misgivings about his plan.

Since the blacksmith wasn't making any move to reply, it was actually Minato who provided the genin with the name. He said it slowly, clearly, and perfectly.

Gai stuck out his tongue, as if tasting the word on the air. “Eku-suk-ari-ba”

“Excalibur,” Minato repeated.

“Ek-ska-ri-ba.”

Which was such a significant improvement from his first attempt that Axel couldn't help but smile, regardless of conflicting feelings about the energetic (and, as a consequence, _loud_ ) genin learning the name of his shop.

“YOSH!” Gai exclaimed suddenly, pumping a fist in the air. “I have decided! If I cannot say it by my fiftieth try, then I shall run twenty laps around the village!”

And then he was gone, as swiftly as he had arrived (as usual). The door was left swinging—which was impressive, because Axel could have sworn that the door didn't open both ways.

Well, hopefully the door frame hadn't been broken _too_ badly.

Minato was staring after where the green hurricane-in-small-human-form had ran. “Has he even figured out how to say your name yet, Axel?”

Shrugging, Axel took a sip from his glass of water and tried to ignore his sudden apprehension. “He's better now, for sure.”

“I suppose I'll just need to get used to hearing shouts of 'Eks-kal-i-baru' at uncomfortable hours in the morning.” He sighed, but otherwise looked resigned to that fate. “That's what he did with your name in the beginning.”

Slowly, as his mind realized just what Minato was suggesting, Axel set his glass down. “Wait,” he said, and he knew now what those misgivings had been about. “ _Wait_. Gai's going… going to run around the entire village… shouting the name of my shop.”

“Well, yeah.”

Fantastic. Simply fantastic. He honestly should have expected this.

Axel could all but feel the heat as his plan went up in metaphorical flames.

Minato was staring at him, expression slightly befuddled. “Was… that not the plan?”

“No!” he snapped, though it wasn't so much in anger as it was self-deprecating annoyance. In an almost defeated tone, he repeated, “No. It was _supposed_ to  stop that.”

Sounding thoughtful and very amused, Minato pointed out, “That won't _quite_ go as you wanted.”

Axel held his head in his hands, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> So how's that store name working out for you, Axel?  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> A note about Akaiko sealing her ANBU mask into her tattoo: I always thought it strange that ninja would mark themselves with an easily recognizable icon. It must be more difficult to go undercover with ink permanently marking you as not only a ninja, but a really freakin' skilled ninja.  
> So I figured it must have some other use that makes it worthwhile. By having the tattoo be where the mask is stored, not only is the mask kept secure, but an ANBU can go on-duty at any moment. Plus, if the fact that the tattoo is a seal is kept secret, that can be used to identify fake ANBU tattoos from genuine ones.  
> Just my thoughts on that, please tell me if you know of something in the story that breaks this headcanon.
> 
> As for the chakra flowing through the kunai, Minato isn't saying that Axel is making chakra blades that can channel jutsu or extra techniques like that. Just that when he uses chakra to help a kunai fly true or to keep his grip firm, it feels easy: as if the kunai was one he had practiced doing that with for years.
> 
> Updates come on the 15th of the month.  
> Thanks for taking the time to read, and, hopefully, enjoy! 
> 
> Translations:  
> "Ninja haben kein Konzept des persönlichen Raums." = "Ninja have no concept of personal space."  
> "Gott sei Dank." = "Thank goodness."
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	13. From the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, elsewhere in the village…

“How do you talk me into these things?!” he gasped, running at top-speed after the older boy as they weaved through familiar alleys to make their escape.

Kaito just laughed, bright and happy, the sack of stolen rice heavy in his arms. “We all gotta eat, Toto!” he yelled back. “Makes for a convincing argument!”

Gasping for breath, the four-year-old was unable to provide his usual annoyed reprimand about the nickname and had to settle with a sharp glance. Which, since it distracted him from running, made him nearly trip over his own feet.

Honestly, Kaito was the one to choose the name in the first place; it made no sense for him to butcher it and cut it down to nearly nothing. It's his own fault he chose a long, cumbersome name like 'Yamamoto' and he should have to deal with the consequences.

The pair ducked down an alley, then squeezed through a gap in the wall much too narrow for their adult pursuers: there were very few perks to being small, but this was definitely one of them. From where they were crouched—somebody's thoroughly neglected garden—they quieted to listen for any sounds from the other side of the wall. Shouts and footsteps swept past their hiding spot. After waiting for a long moment to make sure the coast was clear, the two finally wriggled back through the gap.

“Home free,” Kaito said, still cautiously quiet but undeniably triumphant. Shifting the stolen rice to check his grip, he then trotted to the opening of the alley. Carefully sticking his head out, he glanced around for any sign of their pursuers.

“No,” the younger child corrected. “Not before we actually _get home_.”

“A good point, Toto.”

“It's _not_ —” He sighed, already sensing the futility of his protest. “If you wanted to cut the name down, why couldn't you choose something cooler? like 'Yama' or… or 'Yamato'? I like that one. Can't we use that one instead?”

Dramatically, Kaito put on an expression of abject shock and shook his head. “How could you say such a thing, Toto? 'Toto' is a perfectly good name, Toto.”

“It sounds like a dog's name,” the kid grumbled.

To himself, however—and he wouldn't admit this for all the rice in the world—he _did_ kind of like it. Barely a year ago he didn't even _have_ a name, after all, and he couldn't remember anything but being cold and hungry. Then everything changed. All because Kaito had found him huddled at the base of the Hokage Monument mountain, and named him accordingly.

Though, logically, the whole 'finding him' had more of an impact than 'naming him'. He just liked to be dramatic sometimes. And, yes, it's true that they were _still_ cold and hungry more days than not. The physical situation might have actually gotten worse, with two mouths to feed rather than just one.

But it was still better, because now they had each other.

Plus, in just the past few weeks, their life had had yet another positive twist: a shabby-but-amazing old house in the abandoned district. Right now, with stolen goods in hand, they needed to get back to base.

Seeing the coast was clear, Kaito waved his little brother forward and they ventured together through the streets of their village. Though they were still careful to avoid anyone that might know to resume the earlier chase.

It was much easier to do that, once they passed into the abandoned district. People might skirt through the edges occasionally, taking shortcuts on once well-traveled streets, but hardly anybody still wandered more than one block in.

Which suited the young rice thieves perfectly.

Kaito picked up the pace, having caught sight of the run-down building they called home. It was missing the front door, it having been forcibly removed at some point, but that didn't matter to them. The walls might be cracked and the floor might have water-damage, there might be more broken windows than whole ones, but this was their home: they loved it all the same.

The younger boy paused at the doorway, even as Kaito, eager to cook up their stolen prize, hurried inside. As always, he reached up a hand—he was short, so he had to stand on tiptoe—and traced the diamond carved on the door frame. He treated it as a good luck charm, of sorts.

“Come on, Toto!” Kaito poked his head out from behind one of the walls farther into the building. “I need you to help me set this up.”

“Not 'Toto',” he said, but he hurried inside anyway.

They had only found this place a few months ago, when they had been trying to find somewhere to hunker down in during the cold winter nights. There wasn't any furniture inside, and, as noted, the door was missing. None of that mattered. Because it had walls and a roof, and that was more than they had had for a long time.

It even had a small garden in the backyard: overgrown right now, but nothing unwillingly-nicknamed-Toto thought he couldn't handle. Plants were simple, relaxing. In his opinion, there was nothing better than sitting down with the dense mess of greenery and clearing out the dead scraps.

Coming in close second place, though, was the kitchen sink.

For some reason, the house still had running water. Slow running water, more like a very large drip or a very small leak, but it was _amazing_!

At the moment, Kaito was trying to position the faucet over one of the pots they'd scavenged from a trashcan, but the pot was too large to just set in the sink. So he was trying to jam it in at an angle and it wasn't going well. Especially since he was trying to do that with one hand, and the other was already reaching for the matchbox.

The house might still have water in the pipes, which was already beyond lucky, but that luck didn't extend to the electricity. If they want warm food, they need to set up a fire.

They didn't get warm food often.

Seeing the pot slip dangerously toward falling—which would definitely damage _something_ , be it the sink, the pot, or his brother—the younger boy yelped in alarm. “Stop!” He hurried over, scrambled onto the box they kept nearby so that he could actually reach the counter, and grabbed onto the pot before his brother could drop it. “You'll break it!”

Kaito gave a nervous laugh of the almost-made-a-huge-mistake variety. “Thanks. You got this?”

Given his aversion to all things burning—which was a healthy fear to have, honestly—he gladly agreed to take over the position of pot-proper-up-er. “Don't burn us down, Nii-san.”

“I'll try.” Opening the box, he found that there was apparently just one match left: they'd need to nick another pack next time they ventured out. “Not to. I'll try _not_ to burn us down.”

The little boy gave him a threatening look, black eyes promising retribution if even one spark ended up out of place. Chuckling nervously (no four-year-old should be allowed to be that scary), Kaito left the room to head over to the designated fire pit outside. The pit—though it wasn't much of a pit, given it was just a circle of rocks on the back porch—hadn't been used much recently. Fires were always a rare comfort anyway, saved for particularly cold evenings or for special occasions.

Like today.

Sort of.

He didn't actually know what they were supposedly celebrating, but (in typical Kaito fashion) his pseudo older brother had just decided that today was a special day. Personally, he was pretty sure that Kaito just wanted an excuse to eat something other than what leftovers they could beg from restaurants.

It took ages for the pot to fill up with enough water, during which Kaito stuck his head back inside to say he'd managed to get the fire started—with nothing burning that wasn't supposed to be, no less! The two of them moved the pot outside once it was filled, and together they positioned it over the heat of the fire and poured in some of their precious, newly-liberated rice.

Rooting through the overgrown garden, the little boy gathered up some of the plants that he was fairly sure were edible. Probably. It could be a bit of a toss-up, since shinobi were known for sometimes growing poisons in their own backyards, but these looked safe enough.

Once the rice was cooked, the vegetables were torn into smaller pieces and mixed in. It was a meal fit for a king, assuming the king in question ruled over an abandoned house that didn't even have a front door. Kaito served up their meal on cracked plates, scooping it directly from the pot with the dish.

“Here's to another year, Toto!” Kaito cheered happily, clinking the plates of rice in a toast. “A fourth for you and a…” he paused, running a mental tally, then finished, “eighth? Eighth for me!”

“I've been four for a month now, Nii-san.”

His brother didn't reply right away, since he had shoveled rice in his face as soon as he finished his little speech. “M'yeah,” he said, swallowing, “but we didn't celebrate then, did we? Four years is a big milestone, little bro!”

The young boy cracked a smile. Then, embarrassed, he swiftly turned his attention to his own food in an attempt to cover it up. Kaito graciously pretended he didn't notice.

They spent a long time just eating and enjoying themselves, for once letting themselves not worry about anything but the next plate of rice. It might be approaching summer already, so the air wasn't cold, but there was just something comforting about sitting around a flickering fire with… family.

They had plenty of wood to keep the fire going even when it started to get dark, since for some reason the nearby training grounds were absolutely covered in wooden shards: some shinobi's handiwork, no doubt.

The shadow of the house began to stretch farther and farther as the sun hung lower in the sky, casting the two of them into cool darkness. The slightly chill air of twilight made both boys shiver, and Kaito gave the embers of their fire a sad but hopeful poke, wanting to summon back the cozy warmth.

Then he stilled, looking out to the edge of the yard with a slight frown.

Stretching and pulling himself upright, the younger boy yawned. “Sleep now, Nii-san?” he asked, already so tired he was almost dead on his feet.

Kaito had a peculiar look on his face, as though something wasn't sitting quite right. It took him a moment to answer. “Ah… yeah. Sleep, Toto. It'll be good for you.”

That response doesn't inspire confidence.

Using what was left of the water, the fire was damped into nothingness and the ashes were given one last look over to check for any sparks that might be desperately holding on. Without the crackling of the fire, the night turned peacefully quiet. But still frowning, still troubled, Kaito cast one last glance out, as if searching for something.

“I could have sworn…”

“What's 'matter?” he asked, trying to keep back another yawn.

Kaito shepherded his little brother inside, shaking his head. “It's… probably just my imagination.”

They went to the one room that still had a mostly-intact window and a door—though the door didn't close very well and had a tendency to swing open by itself. Inside was a nest of ratty blankets, which made for a decent place to sleep.

The four-year-old curled up on his favorite bit, with a blanket that had probably been bright green once, but the older boy stayed were he was. Kaito had one hand on the doorknob, keeping the door closed, and he was reluctant to let go.

He didn't know why.

 

=X=X=X=

 

The four-year-old was awoken by a strong grip on his shoulder and a hand over his mouth. Still too sleepy to be alarmed, the little boy blinked his eyes open and, somewhat surprised, saw that the hands belonged to his brother. “Mm-mhm?” he grunted, before the muffling hand was gently taken away. “Wha—?”

“Hide!” Kaito hissed urgently, and he shoved his little brother, blanket and all, into a dark corner where there might have once been a closet. “Whatever you do don't—” Something, maybe a slight sound that the younger boy couldn't hear, made Kaito cut himself off. “Just stay there, Yamamoto.”

The use of his full name woke him up completely, alarmed. “But—!”

“Stay!”

So he did; curled up, tightly holding his knees to his chest, he waited. Confused and far beyond scared by this point, the seconds stretched on until they felt like eons. Then, at last, he heard something: from the other room, a strangled gasp. It sounded… wet. Something heavy fell down, and the fear in his gut burned.

The little boy waited, scared what that might mean, until he couldn't bare the silence.

“Nii-san?” he called out, hesitant.

There was no response, and he remembered that thud and his terrible fear.

Growing even more alarmed, he risked crawling out of his hidden corner and called again. “K-Kaito?”

Scared and shaking, the little boy made his way over to where the door hung partially open. He peered out through the gap, squinting through the darkness. A slight breeze carried with it the smell of copper, and something horrible gripped his heart.

Fear. Death.

Suddenly, even though he couldn't see, he knew. With sickening certainty, he knew.

“Kaito?” It came out as a whisper, desperate and uncertain: now more of a prayer than a name.

He pushed the door farther open, cautiously looking out into what had once been a familiar room. It felt empty. Cold. This had been home. Now, that only made it all the more terrifying.

It was dark, so much darker than it should have been.

But he could still see well enough.

He could still see.

There. On the floor.

Eyes hazy and empty, and red blood glimmering in the faint light.

It was as if the ground dropped out from underneath him. He couldn't breathe, every gasping breath freezing in his chest and curling around his heart like icy thorns. This couldn't be real.

“Ah, _yes_.” A cold, unfeeling voice, but it seemed so far away. “There you are.”

The little boy couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother, lying in a pool of red. Even as that cold voice drew closer. He _couldn't_ look away, because Kaito was _there_ and he wasn't moving and, and— He couldn't! Kaito couldn't be—!

The cold voice didn't care. It didn't even pretend to care.

“Yes,” the voice hummed again, and a pale hand reached toward the little boy.

He couldn't move, frozen in place by more than fear now.

Almost gentle, three fingers brushed aside the boy's brown hair and settled against his forehead. “This will be a more suitable specimen.”

And then the child knew only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Bit of a short chapter this month and, given how university is going, the next couple of chapters will probably be on the short side as well. Then it'll be summer and I'll have time again!
> 
> By the way, Kaito chose to name the little kid he found 'Yamamoto' because it means 'base of the mountain'.
> 
> Looking at the timeline and trying to puzzle out what happens when is, I'm finding, and exercise in futility. For example: Yamato's backstory. As you may have guessed, the young child in this chapter grows up to become Yamato. On the wiki page, it says that he graduated the Academy and became a chūnin at age 6... and also that he was kidnapped as a child and experimented on. Which is weird, because a person can only have so many years of childhood.  
> And then there's Kakashi, who became a chūnin at 6... but still competed in the Exam with his genin team somehow.  
> So I'll sometimes take creative liberties to try and fit it all into one sequence of events. Please tell me if I overlook something major or just stop making sense.  
> Idea Partner: Rikkamaru
> 
> Updates on the 15th of the month.   
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, and just generally enjoying the story.
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	14. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crime comes to light, and likely much sooner than it happened in the original show.  
> What repercussions could this bring about farther down the line?

Something bad was in the air tonight. It was faint, carried only on the barest edge of the midnight breezes, but it was there.

He could smell it, and he didn't like it one bit.

Unable to fall asleep, the dachshund finally had to admit defeat and get up completely. He wrinkled his nose, giving a quiet sneeze at the persistent bad-smell, and glanced toward the window. It was dark, likely still a few hours before dawn.

Three of the other stray dogs that had taken to following him were curled up on their own piles of newspaper or salvaged cushions, undisturbed by whatever sense was bothering him.

Miho, however, was glaring out into the night with suspicion. She had her ears folded back, clearly unsettled by something.

So it wasn't just him, then.

“Anything new?” he asked in a whisper, trotting over to join her by the glassless window frame.

The larger dog shook her head. “Not that I can _see_ ,” she replied. It was clear by her tone that this frustrated her. “Shouldn't you be asleep, Boss?”

Ignoring her concerned question, he instead said, “I'm smelling the same thing you are.” He put his paws up on the wall so he could actually look out.

Miho followed his gaze, recognized what house lay in that direction, then smiled. “Hoh, look at you. Worried for your human?”

He determinedly looked the other way.

This was evidently enough proof for Miho, as the fluffy dog nodded to herself. “Me too.”

“I'm not—” he started to protest, but gave up halfway. Because he _was_ worried. “You know what?— Yeah. I think I'm gonna go for a walk.”

She cocked her head to the side, surprised. “Oh. I guess… Just stay safe, Boss.”

He jumped the rest of the way up onto the windowsill, gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement, checked briefly over what was left of his pack again, then dropped down outside. Landing in a patch of dead grass that prickled at his paws, he set off down the street.

It was a quick trip to the human's house, just one block over. He walked up to the back door, the one connected the room that smelled like fire and metal. Just like the past few days, there was a plate decorated with small shuriken—the same plate from that first night—and on it were a few slices of ham.

He sniffed at the air, and was relieved to smell only ham: the bad-smell was even more faint than it had been when he first noticed it.

With a few chakra-assisted jumps, the dachshund landed on the roof and walked around to the front of the house. Careful not to slip into the gutter, he nevertheless got as close to the edge as he could. Then he went still, listening closely for signs that the human was inside.

Calm, long breaths of someone deeply asleep: the blond man was safe.

He let himself relax slightly.

Now he just had to find the source of that unsettling smell, and make sure it wasn't a threat to his pack… _or_ his human. _His_.

Jumping back down to street level, he followed his nose back the way he came. It was a little unsettling to find himself heading closer to where his pack was sleeping, though, if he had to guess, it would be a few blocks past them. Thankfully.

He couldn't help but remember the animals who had gone missing. It seemed every district had had at least one stray simply vanish overnight. That old tabby-cat, Tora, hadn't ever turned back up. Neither had any of the four gone from his own pack.

None of the missing strays had _ever_ returned.

A shadow passed overhead, and he tensed. He caught a glimpse of a white mask before the figure landed on the side of the wall. The shinobi clung there for a heartbeat, then slid gracefully to the ground.

The figure turned, and the red painted koi stood out clearly against the white mask. He knew this ANBU: she was one of the two running surveillance on his human.

He dropped his defensive stance with a sigh, then continued on walking. “I suppose you smell it too?”

She fell into step beside him, but, given that she was actually walking faster than him, she clearly didn't need him leading the way. Which was answer enough, really.

“Fantastic,” he murmured under his breath, picking up his pace to match hers. “I was still kind of hoping that I was just imagining things.”

They didn't have much farther to go, and they found that the trail stopped outside of a run-down house that was missing its front door. The ANBU flicked her hands through a few gestures and, although he hadn't needed to recognize shinobi sign language for years now, he recognized that they meant 'no enemy nearby'.

But the bad-smell was still there.

Another few hand signs that he was decently sure said she would approach from above, and then she vanished in a flit of shunshin.

He took the less exciting route of simply walking through the front door. Or at least, through where there should have been a door. A small diamond carved into the frame caught his eye for a moment, but, after checking that it wasn't some kind of fuinjutsu trap, he simply ignored it.

The house felt profoundly empty. As he cautiously sniffed around on the first floor, he found… nothing. He could tell that somebody had been living there—the bottom of the sink was damp and there were signs of a recent fire on the back porch—but beyond that was a terrifying blank.

He couldn't _smell_ anything. It was all just dirt and water and ash. Even the persistent bad-smell seemed unnaturally muted once he got inside. There was nothing to indicate who had lived here, what they were like, or where they were now.

The ANBU came down the stairs, steps silent. A gesture asked if he had found anything, and he shook his head.

It seemed like she had expected that answer. “Upstairs,” she said, after briefly walking through the rooms to double check his report. “A child's been killed, and I'm certain that another's gone missing.”

“And the attacker?”

She shook her head. “Gone. But they didn't have time to clean up completely before we got here.”

The dachshund felt his blood run cold as his thoughts turned immediately to his pack… to his _human_. At least Miho was keeping an eye on the other strays. The human— _Axel_ didn't have that defense. And while it was doubtful that he was in any real danger, given the police force would be swarming here soon enough, the possibility made the small dog want to turn tail and run back just to be sure.

For some reason, he got the feeling that the ANBU understood that urge.

But while she had to report this to the Hokage, he, luckily, had no such responsibility.

 

=X=X=X=

 

Axel was awake significantly earlier than usual.

Not particularly sure _why_ he had woken up, he looked around his quiet darkened bedroom with a sleepily accusatory stare. Everything looked to be in order—nothing he could easily blame for his current wakefulness, at least—so he rolled over to try and get at least a little more sleep.

Then he rolled over again, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position.

Staring up at the ceiling got boring quickly, but unfortunately it wasn't boring enough to put him back to sleep. Same with staring at the walls or floor or desk or shoving his face into his pillow so that he wouldn't be staring at anything at all.

Groaning in annoyance, Axel decided that he might as well get up and face the day. Even if, since the sun was yet to rise, he didn't really consider the day as having started. Not bothering to get changed out of his pajamas, he headed downstairs with half-awake plans of making toast or something.

The kitchen light was already on, so, surprisingly enough, it would seem that he wasn't the only one up unusually early.

“Guten Morgen, Morimoto,” he yawned, to sleepy to bother with Japanese at the moment.

The older man, quite used to this by now, simply offered, “Tea?”

Axel shook his head, already filling up a glass with water, and watched as Morimoto still poured two cups of tea. For a moment he wasn't sure why, and then he had his second surprise of the morning: one of those cups of tea was clearly for the ninja seated at the kitchen table.

“Minato?” Axel asked, confused to see his friend visiting before the sun had even had time to rise. “Was ist— uh, What's going on?”

The blond ninja tried for a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you.”

“No, not that I know.”

“That's good.”

Based on the serious expression the usually-smiling Minato was wearing, whatever it was that had brought him here so early… it probably wasn't good news.

It wasn't.

“There—” Minato had to stop, staring down into his teacup as he considered what to say. “A child was found dead. Just a few blocks south from here.”

For a moment, Axel thought he had misheard. Or that maybe he didn't know the right words to understand it correctly.

His mind replayed the sentence.

Axel sat down his glass of water, not quite trusting himself not to drop it. Voice hushed, he couldn't help but numbly ask, “What?”

Some of the tension seemed to bleed out of Minato's shoulders, though that was followed by an almost guilty glance to the side. He had been worried that his friend might have been involved somehow.

“The boy was killed sometime last night,” Morimoto answered for him, likely having been told some of this already.

That word hit like a physical blow.

“Killed?”

Over the next few minutes, Minato summed up what he knew of the situation. Most of it, anyway, as some of it naturally needed to remain confidential. But he did mention that, as horrible as it was to consider, this might not be an isolated case.

Axel listened silently, trying to wrap his head around this most drastic of differences between his old world and this one. München wasn't a particularly violent city—Germany, overall, was considered to be a pretty safe country to live in.

But in this world… violence might as well be a part of life.

Minato was sad, sure. Angry that something like that had happened in his village, definitely.

But he wasn't surprised.

Even Morimoto just seemed… resigned.

Axel closed his eyes for a moment, letting the realization settle, then he decided something.

“I'll be back,” he said. “It is too early, and I need be more awake for this.”

Not waiting to see how that statement was received, he just turned and walked out of the kitchen. He hoped that he’d feel more ready to face this whole situation after he wasn’t dressed in pajamas anymore.

Once back in his bedroom, he fished out some actual clothes from the closet. And they were _his_ clothes: the t-shirt and pants he had packed away in his carry-on luggage. It was comforting to still have a few bits and pieces of the world he had lost.

His laptop caught his eye for a moment. It was on his desk exactly where he had left it, sitting quietly beside its solar charger. He hadn't so much as touched it since he had set it there a month ago.

A thought struck.

Maybe his sister had mentioned something relevant to whatever had happened, hidden among all the random anime trivia she sent him. Adri _had_ always been into theorizing beyond the scope of a show. He probably had email chains and chat logs miles long, saved away to the computer automatically. Now that was all he had left of her.

He hoped she was doing alright.

And he wondered, briefly, how this entire situation looked from her perspective.

Maybe he had just been erased from his reality, as if he had never existed in the first place. Maybe he really had simply vanished. Taken away by some fluke of dimensional alignment. Gone missing.

Or maybe he really _had_ died in that crash, and all of this was just his imagination going wild in his final moments.

Not that that mattered, since it all felt real enough to him.

Axel—who realized that he had been staring at his closed laptop for an embarrassingly long time—was pulled from his thoughts by a slight noise.

He glanced around the room, not sure what he had heard, and then another rasping scrape came from the direction of the window. Persistent, almost manic, the sound came again: scratching and scratching and scratching.

Cautious, Axel slowly approached the window. The sound was coming from above, and it had become an almost constant grating. He hesitated for a moment, before carefully sliding the window open.

The sound stopped instantly.

Leaning out the window, he tried to get a look up on top of the roof.

There was something sticking out of the gutter: long and black and thin.

It looked a bit… like a tail?

Yes, it was definitely a dog's tail. Which, presumably, meant there was a _whole dog_ up there. In the gutter. On the roof. Somehow.

In fact, he was pretty sure he knew this particular dog.

A familiar nose peeked up over the side of the gutter.

He watched for a moment, still processing the fact that the dachshund had ended up on the roof for some reason and trying not to let out a relieved laugh. The nose dipped back out of sight, and a moment later the sound came back as the dog pawed at the inside of the gutter.

“…Are you stuck?” Axel asked.

The sound stopped and the tail gave a nervous wag, which he took to be confirmation.

Of course this didn't answer the bigger question of _why_ the dachshund was on his roof—not to mention how he had gotten up there in the first place—but Axel decided he didn't really need to know. He considered a few different ways of trying to get the poor dog unstuck, and decided that the easiest one was probably the best.

“I'll go get Minato.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Finals have finally (heh) finished! Thank goodness, I basically had to write this entire chapter today because I was so busy with homework and studying. Now that it's summer, I should have enough time to make the chapters longer. So there's that to look forward too!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Guten Morgen, Morimoto." = "Good morning, Morimoto."  
> "Was ist—" = "What is—"
> 
> Updates on the 15th of the month.  
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated, and often I will take inspiration from them to help with future chapters or clear up anything that might be pointed out.
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	15. Hello, Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?

This would be a sentence Axel had never thought he would ever say. It wasn't really a sentence he had ever thought of before, even as a joke, and he needed to take a moment to frame the words before speaking them aloud.

“There is a dog stuck in the roof,” he said.

Minato blinked at that, thrown almost as much by his friend's re-entry into the conversation as he was by the abrupt topic change. He asked, “'In the roof'?”

Nodding, Axel tried to clarify. “Stuck in the rain… tube.”

“Gutter?”

“Yes, that. Probably.”

After taking a sip of tea, a small smile pulling at his lips, Morimoto shooed the ninja toward the door. “Go make yourself useful, Namikaze-san.”

Given that being stuck in a narrow metal half-pipe was probably uncomfortable—even, or perhaps especially, for a dog whose dimensions seemed to be perfectly suited for such shapes—Axel immediately led the way to the door. Minato followed, but only _after_ giving the older blacksmith a wry look.

Once they were both out front, he pointed up toward his bedroom window. It had gotten quite a bit brighter outside since he had first discovered the dog's predicament, which made it easier to spot the thin black tail wagging uncertainly, just barely visible from the ground. The nose popped up, then back again.

“There he is,” Axel said, still sounding somewhat bewildered that the dog was up there at all.

Catching onto that confusion, Minato shrugged and answered the unasked question to the best of his understanding. “I bet he was worried about you.”

The dog yelped in disagreement, though it sounded somehow more like he was trying to give an excuse and as such wasn't a very convincing denial.

Shaking his head in a tolerant manner—which probably meant he was well-used to dealing with that type of personality—the ninja jumped easily to the roof. It was impressive, at least to Axel, and he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. He couldn't easily tell what what going on, other than that his friend seemed to be talking to the dog as he worked to free him.

It took longer than one might expect for the highly skilled ninja to finally release the dachshund from his accidentally-self-inflicted prison, but he got there eventually. Abashed dog in hand, Minato dropped back down.

The dachshund seemed pretty embarrassed by this whole situation, and wasn't able to look in the blacksmith's direction for longer than a few seconds at a time.

“You know,” Axel said, thinking back over the past few weeks, “I have seen this dog a lot.”

Minato, who had noticed the dachshund hanging around significantly more often than his civilian friend could have, nodded in complete agreement. “I'm pretty sure he spends most of his days in your backyard or on the roof.”

The dog, naturally, looked even more humiliated by this.

“…The roof?”

It did make a sideways sort of sense, given that was where the dog had gotten himself stuck. Though Axel had to wonder how and why the roof would be such a favored spot for a _dachshund_ : it must be tricky for someone so short to get up there in the first place. And besides, it wasn't like there was much to actually _do_ on the roof. Maybe the dog just liked feeling tall.

Axel held out a hand for the dachshund to sniff—which the small dog did, if cautiously—but he got the feeling that pats wouldn't be received too well at this point.

“How about 'Dach'?” he asked, out of the blue.

“What?”

The dog looked almost as confused as the ninja holding him, so Axel clarified, “As a name. I see the dog a lot, and I don't have anything to call him.”

It was a bit of a silly name, granted: basically a pun. But then, when the world seems to line things up for a joke, it would be a shame not to take advantage. After all, the word for roof matches the first four letters of dachshund, and the dachshund in question was frequently seen on the rooftops. At least nobody here could be annoyed by the sub-par joke.

“'Dach',” Minato said, testing the word. He sounded relieved, likely because at least _this_ name wouldn't be too unpronounceable. “Sounds good to me. Does it mean something?”

Axel was spared from needing to explain—or to avoid explaining, as the case may be—his crappy naming skills, as the dachshund wiggled to be let down. All four paws on the ground, the dog promptly sat down and gave them both a considering look. Then he looked away, off down the street.

“You don't have to stay.” Turning to head back inside, Axel paused. After a thoughtful moment, he added, “I'll just leave the back door open for you.”

Before he even made it through the front door himself, the dachshund squeezed past his legs and into the entryway. His tail was wagging, and overall now Dach looked a bit more pleased than embarrassed. He vanished deeper into the house, taking advantage of the chance to openly snoop around.

“Woah, little guy!” came a surprised shout: the dog had found Morimoto.

When Axel and Minato rejoined him in the kitchen, they found the dog once more suspended in the air and looking none too pleased about it.

Morimoto gave them a curious look. “I suppose you let him in?”

“Axel gave him a new name and everything,” supplied Minato, looking shamelessly amused. “Morimoto-san, meet Dach.”

The dog and man inspected each other for a moment, and then Morimoto smiled. Giving the newly-named Dach a pleased pat on the head, he remarked, “Well, it's a bit short notice but… I'm glad that there'll be somebody around the house to keep an eye on you, Axel.”

“Other than me, you mean,” Minato joked.

“You don't live here,” returned Morimoto, “so you don't count.”

Glancing between the two of them and the dog, Axel began to feel slightly apprehensive. He pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and sat. “What 'short notice'?”

“You know,” Morimoto said, setting Dach down. The dachshund walked over to sit by Axel in a huff. “Since I'm heading home today. That's why I'm up so early in the first place.”

_Ah_.

Axel stared at the man who had become something of a mentor to him, the man who had helped him through this whole world-changing business (even if unawares). For a moment, it felt as if his heart dropped down somewhere past his feet. But then, after a second to gather himself, he just sighed: he'd known Morimoto would need to head home eventually, after all. Plus, well…

Slightly more annoyed than distressed now, Axel pinched the bridge of his nose. He really only had one thing to say.

“Did you tell me this before?”

Dach had been watching his new human carefully, still trying to figure him out, but at that he shot an almost reprimanding scowl back at the older man. Even Minato gave him a distinctly unimpressed look.

Arms crossed, Morimoto thought back through the past weeks. “I could have sworn…” Then, apologetically, he shook his head. “Must have forgotten. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Axel said. It was more unexpected than he would have liked, but in the grand scheme of things it wasn't too bad. After all, they'd only be a day-trip away.

Not—

He shook himself before the thought could finish, and Dach glanced back up at him in concern.

Minato still looked a bit peeved by proxy, but not enough that he couldn't try and lighten the mood. “So he said nothing and you missed him packing up?”

“I spend all day in the store or forge,” defended Axel, shrugging.

“And to be honest,” Morimoto added, “I don't have much to pack. Most of what we brought will be staying here, after all.”

The ninja nodded, acknowledging the point.

Nearly an hour later, when the sun was at last well and truly up, Morimoto decided it was time for him to head out. It took no time at all to load the pull-cart. Indeed, compared to the unsteady pile of crates they had arrived with, now the cart only had two bundles of clothing and a small box for the return trip.

Axel looked down at his right leg, thinking guiltily back to their arrival. He hadn't been able to help with the cart then, even though most of the things it had been loaded down with had been simply to help with settling into an otherwise empty house.

Of course, he hadn't know that at the time, but he still felt a little guilty.

Morimoto pulled the cart a few steps. “It's so much easier to deal with,” he remarked. “I imagine it'll be a faster trip, getting back home.”

Which was good news; days were already much warmer than they had been just one month ago, as the season slipped out of early spring and into almost-summer.

“We'll walk with you to the gate,” said Minato, though his tone made it sound more like an offer; he wouldn't mind if the older man would rather say his goodbyes here and get them over with.

The three of them—plus one dachshund who seemed determined to stick with Axel—began to make their way down the peaceful street.

Rather suddenly, Axel thought of something.

“Wait!” Backing away the way they had come, he held his hands out in a clear 'just give me a minute' gesture. “One thing, I be fast.”

Then he ran back to the house.

Left with the cart and a few questions, Morimoto and Minato shared a confused look. Even Dach had been caught off-guard; he _did_ follow a little ways after his human, but, seeing the front door shut, he could only sit and wait.

“Any idea what that's about?” the ninja asked.

Morimoto leaned his arms against the side of his cart and shook his head. “I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.”

 

=X=X=X=

 

It didn't take long for Axel to need to drop from a dead sprint to a speed slightly less exhausting, though he still tried to hurry. He got out his key, unlocked the door, and immediately headed up to his bedroom. Nearly tripping over the stairs in the process.

On his desk, he grabbed one of his pens and his notebook. Flipped to the back, and tore out a page.

Now he had to slow down. Though he had continued practicing, he wasn't nearly good enough writing hiragana to do so in a rush and have the end product still be readable. Being careful to write each character correctly—and still making mistakes he had to cross out—Axel penned out a short, very simple letter for Kichirou. After all, he wasn't sure when his next chance to send the teen a letter might be.

The letter didn't say much more than a greeting and a thanks, but that should be fine. The teen's father could well fill in the rest of the details.

Reading through the note to double check for any glaring errors, Axel turned to leave. He wondered, briefly, if maybe Kichirou would appreciate a small gift as well. Maybe one of the kunai or shuriken he had made.

And his eyes happened to land on a little plastic toy resting on a corner of the desk.

The rubik's cube.

He did remember Kichirou asking about it, once. Back when he had been fiddling with it to pass time in the clinic. Kichirou had been fascinated by the little puzzle, and Axel had spent an afternoon watching the teen try to match up the sides.

Maybe…

He kind of didn't want to. It had been a gift from Adri, after all, though she likely had intended it as little more than a joke present—just a 'cruddy color cube' that her brother would play with then forget somewhere in his apartment.

And now it was one of the few links left of home.

Axel picked up the rubik's cube, turning it over in his hands. Adri had written on the yellow squares, one letter on each to spell out a disjointed 'CONGRATS!' whenever fully solved. Written in English, she had defensively explained, because the German equivalent simply had too many letters to fit easily in nine squares.

Something in his chest felt tight, the memory touched bittersweet by loss.

Still, he considered the option.

And made his choice.

Pocketing the puzzle, he wrote a few more sentences at the bottom of the letter.

It felt final, choosing to give the toy away. In a way he couldn't quite explain.

He snorted, wondering just when he had become sentimental about a plastic cube that had, until recently, languished forgotten at the bottom of his backpack.

…He hoped Kichirou would take good care of it.

Putting aside his uncertainty and reminding himself that he was, in fact, in a bit of a time constraint, Axel hurried from the house. Dach barked a greeting as he approached.

“What took you?” asked Morimoto, beginning to pull the cart onwards again as soon as his friend had rejoined them.

Axel didn't have the breath to answer, and lacked the charades skill to explain with handwaving. By way of explanation, he instead handed the letter over to Minato.

“'Kichirou'…” the ninja read from the note. “So, a letter to Morimoto's son?”

He nodded, pulled out the rubik's cube, and breathlessly added, “And present.”

The colorful little puzzle grabbed Minato's attention, and he traded back the letter to get a closer look at it. As Axel handed it over, he demonstrated how the segments turned to rearrange the sides. Minato was fascinated.

“How does it work?” he asked, shuffling colors around.

A shrug. “Don't know, really.”

Which only seemed to heighten his interest. “You didn't make it?”

“No.”

Minato looked like he was just itching to take the rubik's cube apart, but instead settled for delicately poking at it and asking questions for most of the walk. He was still theorizing about it by the time they reached the village gates.

“Maybe the pieces are attached to a segmented sphere…” Minato mused, “but, no, that would still need to hold together, wouldn't it…”

Morimoto stopped the cart, smiling in a way that suggested that he was wondering how long it would take the preoccupied ninja to notice. “Minato?”

“What?” The ninja blinked, took in the situation, then sheepishly scratched at the back of his head. “Oh, sorry. Ah, here, let me…”

Taking the letter and a handkerchief from one of his vest's many pockets, Minato neatly folded the whole present in cloth before handing it back. Axel had sat in on a lesson about Japanese fabric wrapping once, during an event his university club had gone to, and he had to admire the quick efficiency with which his friend knotted the package shut.

“Don't worry,” Minato thoughtfully added, “the handkerchief's clean.”

“That wasn't what I…” Axel shook his head, not sure how to finish that sentence. “Thanks.”

Morimoto chuckled—affectionate, and already sounding like he missed them. “I'll be glad to be home with my boy, but…” He let his fond smile finish the sentence for him, and he gave Minato a _look_. “You two keep an eye on each other, you hear me?”

Dach yipped at him to get his attention, sounding positively affronted.

“I bet you can take of yourself, little guy. These two, however…”

“Wow, Morimoto-san. Do you really think I need a minder?”

The older blacksmith just shrugged, stating, “I've heard the explosions.”

And, of course, Minato couldn't really deny that implication.

“I'll make sure he doesn't blow up anything important,” said Axel. He collected himself, and held out the small package. “This is for Kichirou.”

“So I gathered.” Morimoto looked vaguely amused, taking the wrapped rubik's cube and setting it carefully with his other things in the cart. “He'll be glad to hear from you.”

Axel felt a tightness in his throat and tried to swallow it away. “Thank you,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and understandable. “For lending me your old house, and—”

He was kept from saying more when Morimoto raised a hand, one finger pointing skyward. “Now look here, you are misunderstanding something.”

Axel blinked, not following.

“That house,” Morimoto said, voice precise and uncompromising, “is now _your_ house. I even wrote you in to the paperwork and everything.”

Minato, addressing nobody in particular, asked, “Is that legal?”

The man just shrugged, unrepentant.

Honestly, Axel should have expected this. Still: “You _what_?”

“It's _your_ house, Axel,” he continued, undeterred. “I might still be the signature at the end of the scroll, but it's yours now.” With a nod to the small gift now sitting in the cart, he added, “Consider that payment.”

All Axel could think about was just how many rubik's cubes it would take to buy a house, paired with the ridiculous answer of 'just one'.

Morimoto must have seen something in his face, because he nodded to himself in a distinctly satisfied manner. As he began to walk away, cart trundling behind him, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, and Namikaze-san?”

The ninja in question looked a bit startled at the sudden address. “Yeah?”

“If you're ever in Chotto again,” Morimoto paused, looked back, smiled, “don't be a stranger!”

Minato laughed, bright and surprised and pleased. “I just might take you up on that!”

Both of them stood by the gates, waving, until Morimoto and his cart were hidden behind the trees. And even then, Axel couldn't quite get himself to leave just yet—simply staring out to elsewhere. Dach set a paw on his foot, picking up on his distraction. Axel crouched down, and the dachshund let him gently scratch behind his ears.

Next, the dimensionally-misplaced man decided, would be figuring out how the post worked in this world. Or if there actually _was_ one: at the moment, he couldn't even recall if there was a mailbox outside the house.

_His_ house, Axel reminded himself. Letting that ever-so-slight change of reference settle in his mind.

It was odd, but… right.

“Ready to head back?” Minato asked, in no particular rush.

Axel breathed, and smiled up at his friend. Stood and dusted himself off.

“Yeah,” he said, accepting a fact he hadn't even realized he had been denying. “Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> And so the dachshund finally has a name!
> 
> Updates on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I hope you all continue to enjoy.
> 
> Translations:  
> "Dach" = "Roof"
> 
> I've gotten a few comments remarking on how they might rather I miss an update day to upload something longer and more substantial a few days later. The schedule I keep really what keeps me writing: it keeps me accountable. If I allow myself to delay, that one chapter might be better but the next chapter will certainly come out later still. And later, and later, until I simply don't write enough fast enough to make any progress.  
> It's annoying, and I'm working on it: like breaking a bad habit.  
> Thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy regardless.
> 
> If you have any ideas for what shall happen in the future, please leave a comment! I confess, I would appreciate the inspiration!
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	16. Meet the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay, team building! I'm sure everyone will have no complaints and this will all go smoothly.

Crouching on a branch with the help of just the barest touch of chakra, Kakashi remained perfectly still to listen to the trees. He felt Pakkun shift on his shoulder, stubby pug nose in the air to sniff for any trace of their quarry. Minato-sensei was nearby, they could be sure of that.

But _where_ nearby was the question.

Kakashi slowly turned his head, tracking sounds and smells relative to himself to paint a mental image of his surroundings. Navigating through the trees while blindfolded was proving to be very difficult.

Tracking, even more so.

There was a soft shush—grass and leaves being moved out of the way—as something quietly padded across the forested ground directly below him. Kakashi nearly threw a slew of shuriken at the source before his mind caught up to inform him that the quality of the sound suggested greenery against fur, not fabric.

Pakkun shifted his weight on his paws in a specific movement, confirming that it was a non-threat.

He took a long breath, keeping it carefully slow and steadily silent. It smelled like lush greenery, sunlight through leaves, dirt, the animals that lived in the area, and running water. He could hear the last, faintly; a small creek snaked between the trees nearby. Wind ghosted through the branches.

A jutsu kept his own trail from muddling up what he could smell, though Minato-sensei was likely using a similar technique on himself—

Whisper sharp and nearly inaudible, a kunai thunked into the wood where his feet had been moments before. Kakashi was already leaping away, unsure if that weapon had three prongs and unwilling to risk proximity if it did.

He also loosed a kunai behind him, a paper flash-seal attached to its hilt. Just in case.

After all, given the cloth tied over his eyes, it's not as though _he'd_ be disadvantaged by a blindingly bright burst of light. The knife hit wood, though he thought it sounded like it had hit the trunk rather than the branch he had been aiming for.

Pakkun stiffened, which definitely meant that—

“A flash-seal? Kakashi, what if I hadn't already known where you were?”

An instant later he felt a sort of click and, even through the blindfold, the surge of light was quite visible. His teacher had a good point, though. If he hadn't already been found out, a beacon like that wouldn't exactly _help_ with the whole sneak-and-find aspect of this exercise.

Too late now, he needed to make himself scarce.

And fast.

Dashing through the trees that he couldn't see, Kakashi flipped through the hand signs for the most basic clone technique. Two clones with their own pug companions puffed into existence, and he tossed them a pair of alarm seals. The first ran ahead, then phased through the ground: becoming the bait for a trapped pit he had prepared ahead of time. When Kakashi passed, he primed the triggers and pulsed his chakra, hopefully giving the impression that he had just performed a jutsu to hide underground.

The second clone darted off to his right, jumping along the lower branches of the trees. He had run along those particular trees earlier, so the fact that the immaterial clone left no trail should be harder to detect.

Kakashi himself continued on a straight path, careful to keep his chakra signature suppressed and leave as little trace as possible. The sound of water grew louder, meaning he was definitely heading in the right direction. Jumping out of the foliage—he could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin—Kakashi landed on the surface of the creek.

Water walking was _much_ trickier when blind, apparently. He slid across the surface for a few steps, adjusting to standing on a changing surface he couldn't even see.

The alarm seal from his trapped pit tweaked his chakra, informing him that his first false trail had been caught and disarmed. He flicked out another clone, passed it a seal, and this one continued his straight trajectory back into the forest on the other side of the creek.

Disguising a trail over water is easier than over land, just needing a twist to the chakra in his steps to help the energy disperse into the water more quickly after he moved on. It would have been the ideal route to send a non-solid clone on.

Which is precisely why he didn't.

Not that Kakashi really thought his teacher was _actually_ falling for any of his false leads; they would probably be good enough to reliably fool unwary chunin, but certainly not jonin.

And certainly not jonin like Minato-sensei.

Sensors can be _so_ tricky to deal with.

Still, he was probably going to follow each trail anyway. This was training, after all, and he would want to see what sort of plan his student was setting up.

Another alarm seal meant that Minato-sensei had just caught the second clone, confirming his speculation. It also meant that his teacher was as far away as he was going to get; his range as a sensor is, frankly, annoyingly large, but any distance should help to dampen the ability.

Kakashi jumped and flipped his hands through a weak suiton jutsu, and when he landed on the surface of the creek again, the water folded under his feet. He sank all the way down, completely enclosed in a thin bubble of air. With a quick henge, he looked like nothing more than a collection of rocks at the bottom of the creek.

Then he got to work on the second purpose for this training exercise: chakra suppression.

On his shoulder, Pakkun kept watch on the surface of the water. Smell wouldn't be much help underwater, and sound tended to do strange things, so it was up to the pug to keep an eye out.

The third clone was dispelled, its seal sending the alert back to Kakashi.

Not much longer now, and he'd find out if his ruse would hold. A minute passed.

Pakkun tensed.

“Well done,” came the muffled voice of his teacher, likely standing on the surface with a big grin. “I almost missed you down there.”

Well, that answered that question: he was caught. Kakashi scowled and pulled off the blindfold while still underwater, taking that remark to signal the end of this attempt. As he had expected, the blurry image of Minato-sensei through the water was still unmistakably smiling.

Not wanting to bother with the hassle of getting from treading water to standing on it—no point wasting chakra unnecessarily—Kakashi swam to shore.

Pakkun jumped from his shoulder and onto dry land at the earliest opportunity. “Maybe make the bubble a bit bigger next time, Boss,” he quipped, shaking off some water that had apparently gotten on the top of his head.

Carding a hand through his damp silvery hair, Kakashi had to agree with his canine companion. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Also keep in mind that it's tricky trying to hide chakra being used in a jutsu,” Minato-sensei added, joining him on shore with a proud smile. “You did well, but we'll definitely need to practice that.”

“It's hard.” It was a frank agreement, no hint of whining or complaint.

His teacher nodded, contemplatively flipping through a few hand signs and presumably feeling how his chakra shifted. “That'll be for the future, I suppose,” Minato-sensei hummed at last, after a moment spent thinking. “I'll see what I can come up with. For now we should head back.”

“What?” Kakashi glanced toward the creek, gauging the time based on how the shadows of the trees played across the water. “But it's barely past noon.”

“I have some teamwork exercises planned for the afternoon,” he said, with a sunny smile and his usual cheery tone.

Kakashi was suddenly very suspicious.

“'Teamwork exercises'?” asked Kakashi cautiously.

Minato-sensei just grinned, and switched the topic non-too-subtly back to the exercise.

As they walked back toward the entrance of the training ground, his teacher went over some of the other points he had noticed: tracking, situational awareness, trap laying, and so on. Mainly that the false trails were less effective than the pit trap, but that they will work better once he learns solid clones. Still, even with limited techniques, Kakashi found it reassuring to hear that his teacher had been impressed.

He could go without that sneaky-pleased smile he caught on his teacher's face between topics, though.

“Sensei,” Kakashi said, when the blond stepped over a root with a bit too much spring in his step. “What, exactly, did you mean by a _teamwork_ exercise?”

It was a little concerning that Minato-sensei didn't answer right away, though he also didn't switch the conversation again. Instead he looked like he was carefully trying to find just the right words, and his smile, though still undeniably excited, was slightly worried.

“Ah, well… I have good news!”

Kakashi trusted his teacher implicitly, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that happy-nervous tone.

“We're getting a genin team!”

“What.”

“Or, well, they haven't graduated yet,” Minato-sensei continued. “It's sort of a special arrangement, all things considered.”

He was still walking, but that was mostly auto-pilot. His teacher was still talking, and while he was still listening and categorizing everything being said, Kakashi wasn't processing it at the moment.

It was a given that he would be added to a team eventually, and probably sooner rather than later: just an unfortunate fact of life.

Still, Minato-sensei had seemed perfectly willing to wait a few years. Kakashi suspected that his teacher was hoping that team members around Kakashi's own age—if not skill—would help him to 'make friends' with them. As if teammates needed to be friends.

To himself, and so quietly that even Pakkun couldn't hear, Kakashi asked, “Then… Why now?”

 

=X=X=X=

 

It was the perfect time. Morimoto had left a few days ago now, the store was closed at the moment, and Minato wasn't planning on coming by until dinner. Nobody would walk in on him, unless a ninja decided to jump through his bedroom window.

Which could happen, to be fair.

Axel leaned back in his desk chair, not quite looking at the login illuminating his laptop screen. He glanced to the window for a moment, briefly, just wondering if maybe he should close the curtains. It was a miracle of dead batteries and sheer dumb luck that had kept his computer from gaining attention thus far, and he didn't want to botch that good fortune. Anyone who had seen it before he had woken up had probably just thought it to be a crappy mirror or something.

A part of him distractedly wondered if they even had computers in this world. After all, he had yet to see anything like it, including when it had just been a show. The only tech he could remember from the anime that might count was that random name generator that paired off fighters during the Chunin Exam; not really much of a computer, all things considered.

Then again, having only personally watched up through said exam arc, there were a _lot_ of episodes that he hadn't ever seen. There's no telling what sorts of things he had missed.

And so he was brought right back around to why he was sitting here in the first place.

The text cursor blinked at him, waiting for him to login.

Axel typed in his password, and the screen loaded up his familiar desktop background: a picture of a misty camp scene, white canvas tents with towels drying on the guylines. It was from the last trip he had gone on with his university club, just before his ill-fated trip to Japan.

Not that the away trip was the problem, obviously. The return was where things had gone sideways.

Smiling at the background, he then navigated his way to the folder reserved for all the random things his sister sent him; mostly story snippets she had written or fan art she'd drawn, but she sent other things as well. Adri—after dealing with one-too-many dead links or blocked content—tended to just download and send files over wholesale.

His sister's eccentric file habits meant Axel had copies of videos, images, memes, and more. Though some of the blame for that was the fact that he _kept_ the files she sent him, renaming them and organizing them by topic.

There were a few different folders for different shows, which he maintained mostly in the hope that doing so would help him to follow along with her excited rambling. Though he had been considering just making a text file to keep track, rather than keeping all the videos and such.

He had never been more glad that he hadn't gotten around to cleaning out his computer.

Scrolling down the list of _Naruto_ -related documents, Axel hesitated with his cursor hovering over the name of his best friend. It would seem there was an actual folder set aside for Minato, which was just a point in favor of that nagging feeling that his friend really was a more important character in the anime than he wanted to admit.

Axel decided that he'd come back to that later.

A little farther down, there was another name he recognized: 'Orochimaru'. That creepy snake guy who showed up in the Chunin Exam and killed the third Hokage.

He opened that folder, thinking that an evil mad-scientist type was as good a place to start as any. Ignoring the clips of fights, Axel opened a few of the text files. They were short fanfiction excerpts, mostly, with a few notes on possible continuations scattered here and there.

Apparently, or at least according to his sister's interpretation, Orochimaru had been kicked out of the village because he was caught performing unethical human experimentation. And there were discomfiting suggestions that he wasn't working alone; there was some guy in the village government that had enabled those tests.

Hopefully Adri had taken some creative liberty with that, but, pessimistically, he kind of doubted it.

Axel closed the documents, unsettled. He ignored a lot of the other files tagged with names he recognized, as most of those people probably hadn't even been born yet.

The folder labeled 'Akatsuki' didn't fit what he was looking for, given it seemed to be an organization based in another country. Probably unrelated to the local murder mystery. Plus, it might not even exist yet. Otherwise, that group seemed fairly important to the overall plot; at the very least, it looked like almost everybody could be connected back there somehow.

There was actually an image file that lined out some of the more twisty teacher-student-teammate relationships, though he doubted it would help him at the moment. He skimmed through some of the steps from the first Hokage, then, when he saw Minato included in the tree, decided it was too much to deal with right now. He'd come back to it later.

Actually, on the topic of teachers and students, for the past day or so Minato had been worrying about his own student a lot. Axel couldn't remember how the topic had first come up, but maybe he had been a bit too blunt with his opinion on children forgoing a peaceful childhood for training with knives.

He knew this world was different from his own—some of the characters in the show had been promoted at _ridiculously_ young ages, when kids should just be figuring out crayons—but still. Clearly his points had hit a few chords with his friend.

Although at least Minato had seemed more hopeful than concerned when he stopped by this past morning.

His cursor moved back toward his friend's folder, tempted.

Axel wondered if it would count as an invasion of privacy, reading or watching through versions of his friend's life. He personally thought so, though the ninja mentality probably differed. They might even go so far as to think him crazy for even hesitating.

The thought made him smile slightly. He glanced toward the window again, imagining—

Minato was at the window.

“Was zur Hölle—?!” Axel exclaimed, startled and scrambling to close the laptop and get to the window. And, somewhere in there, kicking his foot into his desk in the process. Hard. He crouched, grabbing his foot with a low hiss of pain.

Honestly, part of Axel thought to himself in a detached sort of way, he should have expected something like this. Because _ninjas_.

“Oh, crap, uh… Sorry, Axel.” Apparently Minato, being a ninja, had no issues opening the locked second floor window from the outside; Axel decided not to think about that too much. “I didn't mean to scare you like that.”

At least he seemed a bit sheepish about the whole thing.

“Is fine,” Axel said, giving his toes a wiggle just to be sure. “You're early.”

Minato let himself in, lightly dropping from the windowsill. “I figured you might want some forewarning.”

That's ominous. He would have said as much, if he knew the word.

Instead, Axel asked, “What about?”

“Well,” and Minato looked very pleased about this, “I have two more students now.”

There came a young, impatient voice from outside. “Minato-sensei?”

Glancing toward the window, Axel couldn't help but smirk a little. “You had a solid few seconds lead, there.”

“It's the thought that counts.”

The two of them headed downstairs, and Axel considered his dinner plan. There should be enough food for two more, as, luckily enough, the six pack of meat had been on sale. Assuming none of the students were members of that one clan—the Akimichi clan—he should have plenty. The main change would be how long it took to prepare five schnitzel rather than just three.

There came a few insistent knocks at the front door.

“We're coming, we're coming.”

Axel opened the door, the little bell hanging off the frame giving a welcoming chime.

There were three kids, as expected. They all looked to be around seven or eight years old, which was less expected: after all, in the anime, the protagonists didn't graduate until they were already twelve. Two of them were largely unfamiliar, a girl with odd purple marks on her cheeks and a boy with orange goggles.

The third… Axel _did_ recognize.

Because the third was a miniature, angsty-looking Hatake Kakashi, inexplicably standing at his doorstep with two other kid ninja.

And—honest to goodness—the first thing Axel felt about this was a vague sort of surprise that the ninja's hair was as silver and gravity defying as the show would have viewers believe. This was followed swiftly by the thought that this young Kakashi looked far less chill than his older counterpart.

“ _You're_ Axel?” said mini-Kakashi, looking between his teacher and the similarly colored adult that was staring at him in surprise.

The boy with goggles made a funny-sounding noise of confusion. “He's a-who-now?”

Minato stepped in with a smile. “Team, this is Brandt Axel. He's a friend of mine. Axel, these are my new students,” he made sure to point out each student as he named them, “Nohara Rin, Uchiha Obito, and Hatake Kakashi.”

Axel, for one, was realizing quite a lot of things. Most importantly, however, was that his best friend was apparently the teacher for the person who would grow up to become the teacher of the titular character. This was followed by the annoying-but-funny thought that he wouldn't be dealing with this surprise if only he had read a few more lines of that relationship chart.

Nothing for it now, though.

“Nice to meet you,” Axel said, stepping back to let them inside. “No bother with your shoes.”

The goggles kid—now known to be called Obito—gave him a curious look. “You talk weird.”

“Yes.”

Axel sighed, just a little. Dinner was going to be… interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> I'll keep this brief since I, too, need to go get dinner.  
> Axel is beginning to realize that his plans to avoid important characters—and thereby hopefully avoid dying in their dramatic back stories—was unraveling at the seems before he even got in the village. Such a shame. He really ought to have checked through his laptop earlier.
> 
> In case it was unclear in the chapter itself, Axel has inadvertently caused the formation of Team 7 quite a bit earlier than it should have happened. Though Minato's Team 7 is one of those canon things that gets confusing if you look at it too closely. For example, Kakashi graduates at age 5 while Obito and Rin both graduate at age 9. And then they are all on a team together. Just, kind of odd. Thus my headcanon that this team-up is caused by Minato, worried about his little anti-social student having no friends ~~at all~~ his own age.
> 
> Updates on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for all the support; I read every comment, and use them as guides for what I need to clarify or change in future chapters. Double thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks. You are all amazing!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Was zur Hölle—?!" = "What in the hell—?!
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	17. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking With Ninja ™

There weren't enough chairs.

Three chairs, four guests, and the table wasn't even built for five people to comfortably sit around to begin with; at least one person was going to end up with a table leg right smack where _their_ legs were supposed to go. Still, there should _technically_ be enough space.

He _did_ have enough plates, glasses, and silverware. So he had that going for him too, which was nice.

Still not enough chairs, though.

Minato pulled the round table out from the wall, positioning it so that everyone could claim a spot. Then, with a knowing smile, he withdrew a scroll from one of his vest pockets.

“I knew you didn't have enough,” he flicked the scroll open, “so I thought I'd go ahead and bring in some from my own kitchen.”

There was a poof of white smoke that quickly dissipated to reveal two chairs. Axel—who had, by now, figured that the only option would be grabbing the chair from behind the register in the shop and the desk chair from his bedroom—was incredibly grateful.

“Thank you,” he said.

With the chair issue settled, he could turn his attention to the next sticking point: actually cooking dinner for everyone. Since his guests had all arrived quite a bit earlier than he had been expecting, he hadn't even started preparing the food.

Well, mostly. The chicken was thawing in the sink and there was a jar in the cabinet filled with cabbage he had diced up, kneaded with salt, and left to ferment a few days ago. It didn't taste quite like the sauerkraut he was used to, but when he had tested it just this past morning, it was close enough.

“Since you're early,” Axel said, moving past the genin to get various ingredients from his fridge, “I still need to make the food.”

Minato, whose eagerness was likely the reason they had been early in the first place, looked a little sheepish. “Ah, well… can I help at all?”

The offer had to be considered carefully. It wasn't so much that Minato couldn't cook, but that he _really shouldn't_ ; he tended to overdose on spices. With a narrow look—debating for a moment longer—Axel judged that it was _probably_ safe enough to have him peel and cut the potatoes. He directed the ninja to the sack in the pantry, and soon enough one of Minato's kunai was temporarily re-purposed as a kitchen knife to prepare the tubers at the table.

Noticing Axel's somewhat dubious look, Minato scooted a handful of freshly skinned and sliced potatoes to the side of the cutting board and smiled. “Don't worry, it's a new one. Hasn't stabbed anything but vegetables.”

Axel decided it was best left at that. As he gathered and set out the rest of what he would need—eggs, flour, breadcrumbs, salt and pepper, and the lemons—he noticed that only one of the three genin was still paying them any attention. Obito had wandered to peek back into the store space they had walked past to get to the kitchen and ogling the various weapons hung on display. The girl, Rin, seemed torn between joining him and dragging him back to the table.

Kakashi was… glaring at him, Axel decided. It was hard to read the kid-ninja's expression when half of his face was behind a mask, but his eyes had a telling edge to them.

Nothing he could really do about that though, so Axel simply moved on.

“Can we help at all?” And there was Rin, having made her choice and dragged Obito over by his sleeve. She was barely tall enough to see over the countertop—standing on tiptoe to get a look at the ingredients.

Schnitzel wasn't hard to prepare and wouldn't take long, but any help is always appreciated. Axel pulled the bowl of thawed chicken from the sink and set them out on a baking sheet.

“Thanks. Here, you can—” He stopped short, a mostly empty gap in his mind where the word he needed would have been.

Rin, noticing his faltering language, shot her teacher a confused glance. But of course Minato decided it would be more amusing to watch his friend struggle for a moment, and simply continued slicing potatoes with a smile.

So Axel was left with one option: figure out a different way of saying the same verb: “…Hit the chicken.”

With another glance at the ingredients on the counter, Rin quirked her head to the side. “Are you making _torikatsu_?” she asked, probably having added up the ingredients and compared them to a mental list of recipes.

Having had _torikatsu_ during his stay in Japan, Axel _did_ have to admit that it was similar to schnitzel. He shrugged and handed her the mallet to tenderize the meat. “Of a sort, yeah.”

“Oh, I know how to make that!” Obito said, perking up. He took the tray of chicken and grinned at his teammate. “We can do this together, Rin!”

Since they couldn't easily reach the counter, the two of them set up at the table across from where Minato was finishing with the potatoes. Axel filled one of his larger pots with water and salt, and put it on the stove to start heating up.

The final potato was sliced and piled with the rest.

“Now what, Master Chef?” Minato asked, tone teasing.

As soon as he translated those last two words, Axel coughed a choked laugh. The cooking show didn't exist here and him randomly giggling would make no sense. It wasn't even that funny, and he didn't watch the show… but it caught him a little off guard.

Although it did give him an idea: perhaps he should fiddle with more of the ingredients he could find at the local stores, just to see if he could recreate more different foods from home.

To answer Minato's question, Axel chucked an onion at him. “Cut up small, please?”

Cooking was a breeze with so many eager helpers—though sometimes having so many in his not-large kitchen had them tripping over each other. Minato was beyond skillful with a knife, of course, Obito and Rin had made quick work of the chicken, and Kakashi had… gloomily stayed out of the way.

Really, between the two boys, it was Kakashi— _not_ Obito—who acted more like the Uchihas from the actual anime: angsty, reserved, and glaring.

By now the mashed potatoes were coming along nicely, the onions and some of the sauerkraut had been mixed with butter and water to simmer, and Axel was minding the schnitzel as they fried. Minato and his new team where quietly sitting around the table, there being nothing else for them to help with.

“So…” Rin began, trying to open conversation, “You two are friends?”

“ _Best_ friends,” Obito added. “How'd that happen?”

It was kind of funny, Axel thought to himself, how Minato looked so reluctant to answer that question. He decided to reply in the vaguest way possible: “Explosions.”

That even got a raised eyebrow from the ever-stoic mini-Kakashi.

Minato raised a finger, about to protest, then thought about it some more. “That's… surprisingly accurate.”

Checking the bottom of the schnitzels, Axel decided this first batch of three was done and moved them out to a plate. The next three were added to the pan, and crackled on the hot oil.

“You're a civilian.”

He blinked at Kakashi in surprise—from the boy's persistent silence, Axel had kind of expected he wouldn't say anything all dinner. “Yes. I am.”

Before Kakashi could get another sentence out, there was a patter of paws and the door to the forge was nosed open. Dach trotted in with a bark of greeting, and got all the way to his food dish—a certain plate decorated with shuriken—before he noticed the guests.

“Oh, he's so cute!” Rin exclaimed, slipping down from her chair to crouch and hold out a hand for the dachshund to sniff.

And now Kakashi had a peculiar look in his eyes, conflicted, almost like he wanted to join her but didn't want to at the same time— Wait. Axel pulled up old memories from those early episodes, when the characters had gone on their first mission outside the village; Kakashi had summoned a dog pack.

“Hey, Kakashi—” Axel started, and the boy sent him a sharp look. “Could you get Dach some food?” He gestured to the plate of chicken. “One of these schnitzels would be fine.”

He looked somewhat suspicious, but he did get up from his chair. “…These what?”

“ _Torikatsu_ ,” he corrected, kicking himself mentally.

Still, Kakashi didn't remark on the odd word further—simply giving him a narrow look and taking the dog's plate from the floor. He got the dog one of the schnitzels, tore it into smaller pieces, and set the dish back down.

Minato, however, felt his students were owed a little explanation: “Axel uses some interesting words, and dislikes honorifics. Just take it as him being weird, not rude.”

Axel snorted, and turned over the chicken to cook the other side. There was some talk about Dach, and how the dog had ended up here—it was a funny enough story—and by the time that topic was settled, the food was ready to serve. Mixing the cooked onion and sauerkraut with the mashed potatoes, he sploped it into a serving bowl.

From the cabinet, he got out five plates and cups to set out on the table. Then he pulled open a drawer and got out his utensils.

“What are those?” Obito asked, when a fork was set beside each plate at the table.

Axel had made the set of forks himself, after he had sat down to dinner one night a month ago and realized that if he didn't take matters into his own hands he'd have to eat with chopsticks for the rest of his life. He wasn't good at eating with chopsticks.

“This,” Minato dramatically picked up his own fork, “is another of Axel's eccentricities.”

“Thanks,” said Axel drily, grinning.

But Obito was still giving his silverware a mystified look. “Okay, but… what is it?”

Axel demonstrated the usefulness of the utensil by stabbing one of the schnitzels and moving it to his plate, then scooping out some mashed potatoes from the serving bowl. “It's called a 'fork'.”

Following the set example, Minato served himself. As did the three genin, though they did so with varying levels of enthusiasm; Kakashi seemed indifferent, Rin was somewhat intrigued, and Obito still looked like he didn't trust his fork one bit.

Then they began eating, and the oddness of the forks was overshadowed by the oddness of the _food_. Sure, schnitzel and _torikatsu_ are similar, but the usual side dishes _aren't_. And that thought reminded him that he had forgotten to cut up the lemons he'd bought.

“Just a minute,” Axel said, standing to do so now. He passed out the citrus wedges, and squeezed the juice over his own slice of chicken.

Adding lemon to her next bite, Rin smiled at the change in flavor. “Your food is weird. Good—but weird.”

Obito said something too, but he had discovered the deliciousness of mashed potatoes moments before and could not be understood around his mouthful of food.

“Same as the man himself,” Minato joked: “Good, but weird.”

Kakashi remained silent, but, based on his half-empty plate, he had at least enjoyed the chicken. Not that Axel had any idea when the boy had eaten, or how: the mask had remained firmly in place, as far as he had noticed. Just another thing that lined up tidily with the anime, despite the obvious logistical difficulty of eating without letting anyone see behind the mask.

Rin took it upon herself to clear away the dishes when everyone was done eating—even when Axel said she really didn't need to—and set the stack of plates in the sink. When it looked like she might actually clean them, he had to put his foot down.

“I clean them later,” Axel said. He turned to Minato for backup, saw his semi-scheming look, and raised a curious brow. “Besides, I think your teacher has plans.”

Minato smiled. “Well, you _do_ run a blacksmith store. And my poor students—two of them don't have any tools of their own!”

A statement Obito had to puzzle over a moment longer than Rin, before matching her excited grin. Kakashi was keeping his face carefully blank, but there might have been the briefest flash of jealousy in his grumpy gaze.

“But _only_ a discount, Minato,” Axel said under his breath, as they followed the more eager genin out to his shop. “Half off.”

“I knew I could count on you,” his friend whispered back. Then Minato raised his voice, calling his students to order. “Alright, kids! We'll start with five kunai and two shuriken each. Choose well!”

Two happy shouts of agreement, followed by a clatter of metal as both students carefully weighed their options: literally, since the balance of a throwing knife is very important. Rin tossed a kunai from one hand the the other, and Obito swiped one kunai through the air in a mimed slash attack.

Axel looked to Kakashi, who had stayed back. “That includes you. If you want.”

The boy frowned at him, then turned to his teacher.

“Don't look at me,” Minato smiled, but he waved him forward. “If you want new kunai, go right ahead. I'm paying.”

Looking at them all in turn—even Dach, who had followed them out of the kitchen and was now watching the excited kids with a wagging tail—Kakashi made his choice. He walked over to join his new teammates at the shelf of throwing weapons.

The three of them began debating the different knives, clearly aiming to get the best kunai they could out of this deal. Rin had a collection of four that he had decided on, but was torn on which she should claim as the fifth. In contrast, Obito couldn't even decided on _one_.

“They're all so cool!” he lamented loudly, looking between two kunai that looked basically identical.

Kakashi shook his head, as if he couldn't _believe_ that his teammate would have such trouble choosing… but that didn't change the fact that he had only set aside two by then.

“So,” Minato said, leaning over, “do I get a discount, too?”

Axel crossed his arms, giving his friend a long look. “This is a business, not a give-away.”

“'Charity'?”

“Not for you.”

“Darn.” But Minato didn't really sound that bothered. “Anyway, have you had any luck?”

Not following the sudden topic change, Axel shook his head. “What?”

“About your kunai,” he continued, pulling one such knife from his leg pouch. “Why they feel natural. What it is that you do to make them that way, despite you not having…?” His voice trailed off, deliberately, just asking for the sentence to be completed.

Axel blanched; he had rather hoped that conversation—from more than a week ago!—would have been forgotten by now. He actually _did_ have a theory, or at least the beginnings of one. But he had no idea how to go about saying it without sounding crazy.

After all, _everyone_ has chakra. Revealing that he just _didn't_ … What if somebody decided that was reason enough to whip out the scalpels and start _investigating_?

“Uh… No?”

It sounded like a question. Minato just tilted his head to the side, waiting.

“Okay, well.” Taking a breath, choosing his words _very_ carefully, Axel asked, “When you fight, even with knives, do you use chakra?”

“Yeah. Why—” He cut himself off, blue eyes brightening as he landed on an answer. “Oh, of course!”

Axel swallowed, worried what that expression might mean.

But Minato just smiled. “Your chakra must be quieter than I thought.”

“…What?”

“I assume it's some sort of kekkei genkai,” he continued, not noticing the flash of confusion, and nodded to himself. “Something that makes your chakra impossible to detect. I suppose that might make it line up easily to other signatures.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Minato noticed the uneasy tone in his voice, and promptly misinterpreted it. “Don't worry, Konoha doesn't prosecute people with kekkei genkai. I've heard other villages do, sometimes.”

Before Axel could say anything for or against the explanation Minato had come up with (and he wasn't even sure which way he'd go), the genin called for their attention. All three of them looked quite pleased with their selection—even Kakashi.

Axel gratefully took the excuse to leave the conversation, walking over to the register to ring them up.

“This everything?”

Obito nodded, though he did look longingly at a tanto hung up on one of the other displays. It was a new piece, the last one Morimoto had helped him with; it _did_ look pretty impressive, even if Axel wasn't fully satisfied with how it had turned out. He wished he'd had more time with the more experienced blacksmith, to pick his brain for advice.

Well, Axel thought to himself, he did actually know of at least one other smithy. And this was a hidden village, for goodness sake!— He should be able to find _somebody_ who knew their way around making swords.

Minato paid for the assorted kunai and shuriken, looking amused at how jealously each of his students guarded their own choices from the others. Even Kakashi was careful not to mix his selection with the rest, though he was less obvious about it than, say, Obito.

“You were eyeing it, don't lie!” the boy exclaimed, quickly storing away the kunai in question. “You're jealous I got the best one!”

“I wasn't,” denied Kakashi, sounding (remarkably) amused.

“Boys,” Rin stepped in. “There's really no point arguing. Especially since we all know _I_ got the best ones.”

That got both their attentions: “What?!”

Minato looked like he was about to dissolve into laughter, and was only keeping quiet by phenomenal force of will. He coughed into his fist to get their attention. “Okay, team. It's getting late, and we should be getting going.”

They all said their goodbyes—Kakashi's tone had gone back to being grudging, but at least he wasn't glaring anymore—and Axel waved them off from his front step.

“Well,” Axel said, sharing a look with the dachshund standing by his feet. “That went better than I thought it would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Oh, wow, dang. Things actually _did_ go fairly smoothly. What a twist!
> 
> I find writing young-Kakashi to be pretty tricky. Of course, that might be because most of the stories I've read where Kakashi is a kid he is also a time traveler, so… yeah. If you have any recommendations for how young-Kakashi should act (or if you know of any good young-Kakashi fanfictions), I would greatly appreciate it!
> 
> If you're interested in cooking this dinner yourself (and it's a really easy dinner to cook, too), a quick Google search should find you plenty of recipes for schnitzel. For the mashed potatoes, here's a link: [RECIPE](https://www.thespruceeats.com/creamy-amsterdam-mashed-potatoes-with-sauerkraut-1809523)
> 
> Sorry that the post came so late today. I had to re-arrange the entire thing and, as a consequence, needed to write basically half the chapter. On the upside, that means I have more of the next chapter written, and _that_ hopefully means a late-day posting won't happen next month.  
>  Updates on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks again for reading, and (hopefully) enjoying! And thanks again for all the follows, favorites, and reviews.
> 
> Translations:  
> "torikatsu" = "chicken cutlet"
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	18. Making Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business, as they say, is all about knowing the right people.

Axel had no idea how well this plan would go, but he was hopeful. Maybe he shouldn't be, but he was nonetheless.

Heading for the door, he again checked that he had his keys, notebook, pencil, and—most importantly—the bundled up sword. After all, he was seeking advice on smithing: it seemed logical to have an example on hand to help steer his questions.

He opened the door.

And the first thing he heard, as soon as he did, was, “Sorry for breaking in before.”

Axel blinked at Akaiko, then down at the bundle of flowers she was presenting to him.

The bouquet may have once been artfully arranged, but her nervous fiddling had destroyed most of the careful positioning. Other than some decorative sprigs of green, most of the flowers were of the same type: a stem topped with a dense collection of blue or purple blooms. Akaiko shifted from one foot to the other, and they both stared down at the flowers in her hands.

He was just trying to process what was happening here.

“…The flowers were Inochi's idea,” she said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “Her family runs a flower shop, actually.”

“Oh.”

Given he had no idea who that was, hadn't been expecting to run into anyone—especially not before he had even made it through his own front door—and had never been gifted flowers before, Axel was just generally not sure what to do in this situation. His bafflement didn't help him much when it came to figuring out how to respond.

Misattributing his silence as an accusation when it was just plain confusion, Akaiko hastily reassured, “Not that I wouldn't have apologized if she hadn't said anything.”

“That's fine.” Axel waved dismissively, having long since become used to the ninja tendency to make an entrance and ask permission later. “I've noticed trends.”

Because while it's true that she _had_ broken in, it is equally true that Minato preferred coming in through the window in the guest room on the second floor. A window that Axel typically kept locked, meaning his friend must be doing some breaking in of his own.

He had just come to accept that, in a world of ninja, any door might as well be an open invitation to come right on in. Even if that door is locked. Or a window. After all, whenever opportunity closes a door, there's no reason to bother searching for an open window if the lock is easily picked.

Maybe he should be worried about how easily he just accepted that way of thinking.

Of course, there was a major difference between these two cases: that being that Minato, unlike her, has a standing invitation to come over whenever he pleases. Not that he _hadn't_ enjoyed her visit—because he had, she was fun to talk with—but just that, well…

Whatever.

Taking the bouquet, Axel waved her into the house and went to the kitchen to get something to hold the flowers. From his pillow under the dining table, Dach gave his human a puzzled look at the speedy return; then he spotted the flowers, the woman lingering by the door, connected the dots, and curled himself back up into a comfy ball.

Akaiko herself didn't come in too far, just hanging around the entryway while he, lacking an actual vase, opted to just fill a mixing bowl with water and plop the bouquet in that.

As the sink was running, he couldn't help but ask, “So… How long were you standing out front of my door?”

She shifted, crossed her arms defensively, but didn't look away. “Not too long.”

Which, based on her attitude, he took to mean anywhere from five to twenty-five minutes. Maybe even longer. But this, too, he shrugged off.

“Alright.” Since he spent most of his time either in the forge or at the front desk—and flowers don't mix well with fire—he set the bouquet bowl by the register. At Akaiko's curious look, he just explained, “No flower glasses.”

“I think you mean 'vase',” she corrected.

As he checked that none of the flowers were at risk of flopping themselves out of the water, he made a mental note of the word and added it to his vocabulary. Despite his improvements with the language, there were still plenty of specific words he simply didn't know yet. A stack of flashcards sitting on his desk helped, but he couldn't add to it without tripping over unfamiliar phrases first.

“Thanks.”

Almost hesitantly—which was a little hilarious, given her first entrance was a confident break in—she joined him by the register. She plucked each flower out one by one, trimmed the end of a the stem at an angle with a kunai, and replaced it in the bowl. Now that he thought about it, Axel could remember his mom doing something similar with the bouquets his dad would buy on special occasions: though not with a mixing bowl, of course.

“Inochi gave me a whole rundown on flower care,” she said, cutting another stem. “Wouldn't even let me take them before she did. We were genin teammates so she's known me forever, but it's like she doubts my ability to to do anything more than breathing sometimes.”

Which, to be honest, reminded him of some of his own friends—they would trust him around near-molten metal to make knives, but would downright refuse to let him use said knives to prepare food or anything. It wasn't as though he was a bad cook, just that they worried for no particular reason.

“She's never told you how to breath?” he asked, teasingly.

“Not recently,” Akaiko quipped back with a smile.

They chatted for a while, working their way through the bouquet more and more slowly as they traded jokes and stories: heavily censored on both sides, for completely different reasons.

Somehow the conversation had turned to swimming lessons, and Axel was relating a story from one of his family trips to the beaches of Denmark—naming no names, of course—when he felt a pawing at the hem of his pants. Dach, one paw on his foot, gave him a distinctly chastising look before turning deliberately toward the door.

“Do you want out?”

The dachshund rolled his eyes, sat, and gave him another pointed look: a clear 'no, you' said without words.

Axel blinked, and, adjusting the wrapped sword hung over his shoulder, remembered that he had more plans for today than just hanging out with a friend. “Oh, right. I was going to ask for help.”

Seeing his human was once more on track, Dach gave him a satisfied nod and trotted back to his bed.

“Ask who for help? With what? Can I help?” Akaiko leaned in, openly curious. A curiosity that didn't make much sense to the poor misplaced German, given he had no way of knowing that she had basically been assigned to learn his schedule.

Though in this case her interest was less to do with business, and more a consequence of her being a naturally curious person. She had certainly _not_ gone into this apology planning on spying; her only intent had been to chuck the flowers at him and maybe hang out. Snooping is just an obvious consequence of being an intelligence agent with some free time on her hands.

So she followed him out the door and down the street as he explained his plan to try and find a blacksmith who would let him pelt them with questions about sword smithing. He didn't think this plan was anywhere close to exciting, but she waved him off.

“It's my day off, and my only other plans were to waste it away chucking kunai at a log.” She sketched a throwing motion through the air, then shrugged. “Spending time with you is a definite improvement, trust me on that.”

 

=X=X=X=

 

The door shut with a very definitive click, and Axel sighed; that would be the third blacksmith unwilling to hear him out. All he wanted was a little help, but it would seem that he had underestimated how jealously they would hoard their skills. Just one of those differences that he hadn't thought to consider.

In hindsight, it was kind of obvious. After all, ninja are sneaky, secretive, and always keep a few tricks up their sleeves. It just stands to reason that even the civilians would pick up on that mentality.

In the real world—or his old world, he didn't quite know how to refer to it—there was no shortage of helpful resources. Either he would know somebody, or he would know somebody who knew somebody, and Axel could just ask them if he ever got stuck on something. And if there wasn't anyone who could help locally, the internet was always an option: literally a massive community perpetually sharing information and ideas. Even if a lot of those ideas were just cat pictures and memes.

The point is, the ninja world liked its secrets. He couldn't say if it was the ninja that caused the secrecy, or vice versa. Either way, he hadn't _quite_ seen it coming.

Axel turned away, and began walking to his forth attempt.

“No luck?” Akaiko asked, pushing off of the wall she had been leaning against to fall into step beside him.

“No,” he sighed.

She kicked a pebble and it bounced off down the street with a clatter, not hitting any of the other pedestrians in the area—and, given her ninja status, maybe that was on purpose. The look on her face was somewhere between unsurprised yet, somehow, still annoyed.

They caught up to her pebble and she kicked it again. “Well, that sucks. Seems the civilians have picked up a thing or two from living with shinobi.”

Which echoed just what he had been thinking so closely that it was almost spooky.

It was kind of weird visiting these blacksmiths without Morimoto, since he had always been the one doing the talking. Having Akaiko there was more reassuring than he had expected; it wasn't quite the same as visiting with a mutual friend, but all the smiths could recognize that she was a ninja and therefore a potential customer. Axel had the distinct impression that their refusals would have been much harsher if she hadn't been present.

They turned a corner, and he spotted the bright green door of his next and final target. It was the first place he had visited in the village, having been dragged out of the house by Morimoto and taken along to meet one of the man's oldest business partners. He had chickened out that first time, but there had been no shortage of opportunities later on; Morimoto had been plenty determined to set him up with contacts.

So Axel had come here a few other times, more often than any of the other smithies, though he had never completed any of the transactions himself. Mostly he had stood and watched, trying to follow along as the two more experienced blacksmiths talked shop. The owner—an old man named Pei—had always seemed willing enough to share ideas with Morimoto. Hopefully _he'd_ hear him out, at least.

The sign hanging on the green door said the store was closed, but he could still hear the sounds of people hard at work inside. Axel knocked, and, after a moment, the door swung open to reveal an short old man whose beard had more than just a few white hairs.

“Can't ya read the—” Pei paused, mid-sentence, and his eye narrowed in recognition. “Hey, you're that weird fella who followed Hiroshi around, ain't ya?”

Akaiko scowled a bit at that. “Who are you calling weird, you—”

“Easy there, Spitfire,” The old man held up his hands in mock surrender. “Nothin' wrong with being a little weird.” Then he eyed Axel, considering. “So. What're you here for?”

“I want advice,” he said.

The old man looked surprised, brow furrowed slightly, but it wasn't _quite_ out-right refusal. Axel thought that was probably a promising sign.

With a tone that was squarely between cautious and reluctant, Pei asked, “What sorta advice?”

And _that_ was more promising than all three previous blacksmiths put together!

Axel grabbed the bundled up cloth from his back, unwrapping one end to reveal the hilt of a tanto; he had made this one purely for practice—the result of said practice, which Morimoto had deemed decent, now hanging in his shop.

“I'm… more familiar with a different type,” he said, thinking of the metalwork he had done for his university friends. Their club had been part of a whole organization focused on recreating skills from medieval Europe, so it only made sense that he'd have more experience making western weapons.

Some techniques translated. Others… didn't.

Pei frowned, hands held behind his back as he considered what he could see of the sword. He hummed contemplatively, leaning in for a closer look. “I can tell.”

Choosing to take that statement as plain fact, free of any snide-ness the old blacksmith may or may not have actually intended, Axel pressed, “Can you help? We can trade.”

“Trade, huh.” He rocked back on is heels slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Goods or information?”

That was unexpected. In fact, he had begun to think he might not even get this far and had subsequently forgot whatever it was he had been planning to say next. However, to be honest, that wasn't what caught Axel most off-guard. That would be the fact that: “You'd actually want something I made?”

Eyeing the blond for a minute, bemused, Pei asked, “Yaknow, for a while I thought it was Hiroshi makin' those new knives.”

Not quite picking up what the old man was trying to put down, Axel shifted in place. “What?”

“Thought he'd come up with some new trick in the process.” He seemed to be partially talking to himself now, musing out loud. “I _actually_ asked him about it, straight out, but—”

The odd emphasis stood out, but the reasons for it—why being direct would be worthy of note—were not quite clicking in Axel's mind at the moment. Before he really thought his way through what he was saying, he was already mid-sentence.

“Of course you asked, isn't that just common… sense…” Then Axel drifted off, question dangling, and immediately wished he could smack himself. Common sense here was very uncommon—or, at the very least, defined differently.

The old blacksmith stared at him for a minute, expression unreadable, then burst into laughter.

“Ain't it just?” he asked, tone still jovial. “There I was, thinkin' he was just playing sneak when he pointed over 'atcha for his answer.” He shook his head, and his tone switched back to something more serious. “But it was you, wasn't it. You're the one what made those kunai.”

This wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact, with the curious trimming on his tone that suggested it was something he had only just realized.

Axel nodded, wondering if that would be a problem; it was surreal, and maybe a little worrisome, to realize that more people than just his friends had noticed the curiousness of his metalwork. Especially since there wasn't some trick to it, it was just the plain fact that he didn't have chakra. He couldn't very well spread _that_ particular tidbit around.

“Alright then, one smith to another… I'll level with you,” Pei said, arms crossed. “This sword would probably shatter in its first conflict. There's some promise, 'specially in the fittings, but the rest is gonna need real work.”

That tone sounded almost as if— “So… you'll help?”

The old man clapped a hand to Axel's shoulder, which was a little awkward given the not-insignificant height difference between them. “Hiroshi really liked ya, Blondie. What kinda friend would I be if I didn't help?”

“Didn't stop the rest of them,” Akaiko grumbled.

Which, again, was very in-line with what Axel was thinking.

Pei just laughed. “Well, ya get to my age and you don't have time ta second guess yourself. Now get in here,” he waved them inside, heading toward his forge, “Let's see if we can't cram some more stuff in that head o' yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> The flowers are purple and blue hyacinths, which basically means "sorry, please forgive me" in the language of flowers. They also look really cool looking, since it's basically a cylinder of solid flower. I searched google for a reference pic of a hyacinth flower bouquet, and it looks pretty cool.  
> (Though you really need the "flower" in "hyacinth flower bouquet" or you get photos of some lady. Weird.)
> 
> On a non-fanfic related tangent, school is well under way—I even have a midterm on Monday. Here's hoping that goes well, and I hope your school (or work) experience is going well too.
> 
> Here a quick question: what sorts of things from reality do you think Axel should bring into play in this world of anime ninja logic? I have some ideas—not limited to science and math—but what do you think?  
> I'm definitely planning on more fuinjutsu advancements, perhaps bringing in the idea of mathematical formulas or such as a new tighter way to represent a jutsu. Kind of like how a string of variables can represent a shape in 3D (or even higher dimensional) space.
> 
> Updates on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for all of the comments! And thanks again for all the kudos.
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


	19. Electromagnetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnets. They're basically magic, right?

By now summer was well and truly underway, and the uncomfortable heat was a constant reminder that this country he had found himself in was called 'The Land of Fire' for good reason.

Axel—stuck working around a forge for at least several hours every week—was really regretting his career choice at the moment.

It had been a month now since he had gotten that first lesson with Pei, and during that time he had gone to him for any other questions he stumbled across while working. Of course, actually asking the questions proved to be a little tricky, given his still-limited vocabulary. He had to try, though, since the whole process of making a true katana or tanto or any other such blade was a bit more involved than for making a European longsword.

For one thing, he couldn't just purchase a bar of steel of a specific grade and hammer it into shape. There was this whole process of choosing bits of metal with the appropriate carbon content—though Pei didn't know that that was what he was technically doing—heating them, and hammering them down to weld the pieces together. Then hammering and folding the metal to remove even more impurities, hammering and folding, and only then would the metal be ready to be shaped into a weapon.

It was fascinating to watch a master at work, how he timed every action carefully based on color and sheen and sheer experience whereas Axel had been leaning on his knowledge of the metallurgy behind it all to reach similar—if a little more amateurish—results.

Still, he mused to himself, the raw materials left quite a bit to be desired.

Getting solid metal was _expensive_ , and even then it was still basically a mishmash of steels with different carbon concentrations. Morimoto had helped with that tremendously, having made use of his connections to set up the store with a small stock before he went back to Chotto, but that would only go so far.

As such, Axel had been making use of a lot of recycled metal—mostly scavenged kunai and the like from the training fields. But that, too, wouldn't work forever.

Which was why he had begun looking into producing his own metal.

So he had purchased a bin of iron sand to experiment with.

And, as expected, there's a lot of crap mixed into iron sand. Sand is sand after all, and, though the magnetite itself has very few impurities, the overall mix contains all sorts of other minerals and undesirable stuff.

The current process to un-blend this mess of sediments involves using what amounts to large-scale gold panning techniques and flowing water to sift the heavier metal from the rest. Followed, naturally, by repeating the process a large number of times.

It was, to be frank, more effort than he was willing to deal with regularly. Especially since he had another system in mind.

He just needed to figure out where he could get a magnet.

For now, though, he was sketching out the rest of his temporary set-up. Two rollers, a conveyor belt to run over them, a funnel he could pour the iron sand through onto the track, and a pair of jars or something to catch the runoff—tests would show if he needed anything else. The system would work by having one of those rollers be magnetic, or have a magnet inside, so the non-magnetic stuff would fall off the track straight away while the iron would stick a little longer and fall off a little later.

Simple.

If he had a magnet. Or means to create an electromagnet.

Axel was capable of making a coil and an iron bar—that would be easy—the problem was getting an electric current; he had no clue how to go about getting batteries or whatever. The house has lights and appliances, but he hadn't actually seen any stores selling electrical components or the like.

Actually, he hadn't even seen any power outlets since the one he had spotted back in the clinic.

He peered around the kitchen where he had been planning out this project, got up and wandered into the other room, then to the front store. Indeed, none of the walls had any plugs at all. It was kind of impressive that he hadn't noticed until this point, after living here for almost half a year, but then again he used his solar charger for his laptop and didn't have anything else he'd need to plug in.

On the topic of the solar charger, he briefly wondered if he could use his laptop charging cord as the wire in an electromagnet. Possibly, but he wasn't keen on messing with the only way he had to keep his laptop powered. And it probably wouldn't work too well with where he actually wanted the magnet, anyway.

Back to his kitchen-table-turned-workspace, he crouched to the floor and considered the bin of iron sand resting on one of the chairs.

There was a character from the anime—his favorite character, actually, though the name escaped him at the moment—that could control sand. He wondered if there were any other ninja out there who could, and if maybe they had developed ninja-magic techniques to separate the iron sand.

Actually, he recalled Adri excitedly ranting to him about fighting with gold sand manipulation once. More distinctly, he remembered telling his sister that that seemed really useless; the gold would have to come from somewhere, and would probably be better spent… well, _spent_.

Just staring at the box and thinking about the possibility of physics-breaking ninja methods wasn't getting him anywhere though, so he decided to just build what he could and figure out the rest later.

 

=X=X=X=

 

It was later—by two weeks—and he still hadn't figured out a good solution for the electromagnet issue.

At this point, he was just hoping that ninja-magic might have the answer he needed. Unfortunately, Minato had been busy with missions for a while and therefore not available for questioning. Even Akaiko had been off somewhere. He didn't know any of the rest of his regular ninja customers well enough to ask them for help.

And that wasn't something he had originally planned on: having _regular ninja customers_. He didn't really want to involve himself with ninja matters, but at this point it didn't really matter. That's what he told himself, anyway. They were nice enough, and that was all that mattered in the long term.

Younger ninja stopped by fairly regularly as well—Gai, of course, Obito, Rin, and even Kakashi seemed to have decided his shop was the place to go for kunai—but he wasn't sure they would have any useful answers if he asked them.

Regardless, if ninja could spit fire and summon giant animals or even freakin' meteors (he was fairly sure that was a thing that happened in the show at one point), they should be able to run a small amount of electricity through a metal coil.

Right?

Who was he kidding, Axel had no idea about what ninja could or couldn't do. Still, he thought it safest to err on the side of assuming ninja could do whatever they wanted.

There was a familiar thud from overhead.

He glanced in the direction of the stairs, and soon enough a slightly ruffled looking Minato—still decked out in his mission gear—appeared from around the corner.

“Hey, Axel!” He gave him a cheery smile. “Long time no see!”

“Everything went well?”

Minato didn't answer, as he was immediately distracted by the pile of metal parts on the table. “What's all this stuff?” He picked up one of the sheets of paper, looking curiously at the diagram drawn on it of one of the rollers and a few calculations for the electromagnet. “A wheel?”

“Kind of, it's for a… moving thing.” He should really check if he still had a German-Japanese dictionary downloaded to his laptop. And if so, maybe just spend a few days reading through it. “For getting iron from iron sand.”

The ninja was about to say something, but a knock on glass in the other room interrupted him.

Axel leaned back in his chair to get a look at the front window, waving hello to the peeved student staring back at him. He was rewarded with an only somewhat grudging wave in return. “You just got back? Kakashi looks impatient.”

“Oh, right.” Minato hurried to the front door. “We still need to report to the Hokage. Just thought I'd stop by on the way.”

“See you later?”

“Yeah!”

And with that, his friend and his student vanished to the rooftops. Or probably to the rooftops—he couldn't actually see their movement, but ninja seemed to love jumping from building to building.

By the time Minato returned several hours later, Axel had set the project aside and was instead just chilling at the register. Though the purple and blue flowers had long since wilted, for some reason Akaiko had taken it upon herself to keep him stocked with a variety of foliage ever since. The latest bundle from two weeks ago were still going strong, remarkably, and the small lavender and white flowers filled the warm summer air with a fresh fragrance.

He was checking the water level in the mixing bowl when—wonder of wonders—Minato actually came in through the front door.

Axel flicked the water off his finger, sitting up and smiling at his friend. “Welcome back.”

“Good to _be_ back,” he replied. He had clearly changed his clothes and showered since his brief visit earlier, and generally looked more comfortable. “I don't mind travel, but I _do_ start to miss my own bed on the longer missions.”

Axel very pointedly did not think of his own apartment back in München.

“So,” Minato continued, heading immediately for the kitchen table and the project still strewn across it, “How does this work?”

He turned the handle on the back roller, pulling the belt around on its loop. The conveyor part of the contraption was a little bit shorter than the table, in the hopes that it would be easier to pour the iron sand onto the belt and not make a huge mess in the process.

Axel took the two shallow metal trays stacked on his chair and set them on the floor underneath the other roller. “You turn that,” he pointed to the handle Minato had already been messing with, “and the sand goes across. It falls off into this tray. Iron sticks longer, and falls later.”

“Iron sticks to this?” Minato asked, touching the belt lightly. “It just feels like leather.”

Which would be because it _was_ leather, though he might need to change it out with rubber or something later depending on how much the sand stuck to the leather itself. Assuming he could even buy rubber at all. He didn't even know if plastic had been invented yet.

The technology in this world was all over the place, it was weird.

“Not yet,” Axel said. “It will stick, but I need a—” Right, he didn't actually know what the word for 'magnet' was, but whatever, “—Elektromagnet.”

“A what?”

He was trying to figure out how to explain his way around the word, when the door abruptly burst open.

Axel felt he should probably be more startled by this, but it happened virtually everyday by now. For example, Gai still tended to make regular—but somehow unpredictable—visits almost weekly. Although, interestingly enough, the person responsible this time was not an overexcited genin in green spandex.

There was a swirl of red hair framing an energetic smile. “Where is she?!”

Axel blinked. “What?” To himself, he wondered why the heck this woman looked so familiar. “Who?”

Beside him, Minato was suddenly remembering a very brief conversation from months before. He looked like he was either going to collapse into uncontrollable laughter or was hoping the ground would rise up and swallow him whole. Either way, answers wouldn't be coming from him.

She crossed her arms, stance wide and unshakable. “I wanna meet her!” she continued, either ignoring or not registering his growing confusion. Her smile turned mischievous as she turned to Minato. “Friends of yours are friends of mine. And she sounds cool, ya know?”

“Holy crap, Kushina,” Minato breathed, voice quiet as if he thought he could sneak out a sentence or two without triggering any giggles. He was unsuccessful.

So it seemed his friend had some idea of what was going one here, while he remained in the dark. “What are you talking about?”

The woman—Kushina, he'd heard of her, she was Minato's girlfriend—seemed to deflate, just slightly. “What, seriously?” She sounded honestly disappointed. “I wanted to meet her…”

Voice still with an unsteady air that came from trying not to laugh, Minato stated, “Yeah, I think you'd really like…” he had to regroup, “…'her'.”

Axel now knew for sure that something was afoot—that odd one-word emphasis and the glance his way were just too distinct to be anything but a sign of some kind of guilt. So he narrowed his eyes, suspicious, and Minato struggled to maintain his composure.

“Is there something you should tell me, Minato?” Axel asked.

The ninja just innocently looked to the side, though his poker-face was still cracking. Given the stealth aspect of this particular career, one might expect ninja to be masters at concealing their emotions. And most of the time, they are.

Just… not so much with friends.

Kushina smiled as if she had just stumbled on an unexpected ally. “Yeah, Minato,” she chirped, putting one hand on the back of Axel's chair. “Who is this chick?”

And that seemed to be too much for poor Minato, as he immediately dissolved into laughter. “You really— But he's not…” He took a deep breath and held it—which was trickier than he'd care to admit—then exhaled slowly. “Alright. Kushina,” he gestured to his fellow blond, “this is Axel.”

Kushina blinked. Blinked again, and then flushed a bright red that could rival the color of her hair.

“Axel's a _dude_?!” she exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

And all at once, Axel realized what miscommunication had occurred. “You thought I wasn't?”

“I hadn't met you yet, ya know!” She crossed her arms. “Ya've got a weird name, it was anybody's guess.”

He bristled a little at the name comment, but in this world he had no leg to stand on if he tried arguing. After all, most people here couldn't even _say_ his name without tripping over the  'X's and 'L's at least a few times first.

So in the end he just sighed. “That's fair.”

She brushed off her embarrassment with enviable ease, moving on as if the entire situation hadn't even happened. Leaning over the table to check out what they were up to, Kushina raised an eyebrow when she realized that she couldn't actually read most of what was written there. “So… What is this, Blondie?”

Axel chose not to remark on the nickname, and instead just gave her the same quick rundown that he'd told Minato; it was best to just roll with it when dealing with ninja.

Then, of course, he came to the same word he didn't know. He held up the coil of metal he had prepared, tracing its shape. “I need a… flow… of—” And another word he didn't know. “Elektrizität,” he finished. “Small lightning?”

They both seemed to catch what he meant, though, so that was good.

Minato took the coil, nearly dropping the metal bar that it was wrapped around. Then, with one end in each hand, he closed his eyes.

There was almost a buzz in the air, a gathering of energy that had the hair on the back of Axel's neck standing on end. Blue light shimmered into existence, sparking around Minato's right hand with a distinctly electric crackle. Minato exhaled, and let the energy run through the coil to the other side.

“Heilige Scheiße,” Axel breathed, eyes wide.

Well, he called it ninja- _magic_ for a reason.

“Now what?” Minato asked, looking entirely too amused at his friend's reaction.

“Oh, uh…” Axel scrambled, dashing to the cabinets to grab a plate and scooping out some of the iron sand from the bin.

While he did that, Kushina regarded the electrified metal somewhat skeptically. “How is this supposed to help with the sticking?”

Axel grinned. “Just watch.”

He held the plate of iron sand up to the newly made electromagnet. The magnetite in the sand immediately began shifting around, some of them light enough to make the jump up to the coil while the rest arranged themselves inline with the magnetic field.

Now it was the ninjas' turn to look shocked, even if one of them was still channeling electricity safely through his hands. Axel tilted the plate, and the pattern in the particles shifted accordingly.

Minato moved the coil left and right, up and down, watching the changes play out on the plate of sand with a delighted smile. “How…?”

Grabbing a bit of stray metal off the table, Kushina tossed it onto the side of the magnet and laughed when it stuck in place. “How does that even work?” she asked.

Both of them turned expectantly to Axel, and he knew he didn't have even half as many of the words he'd need to explain electromagnetism accurately.

He paused to consider what vocabulary he had that could help with this. “The lightning makes… waves, and the waves push or pull at the iron more. Doing this,” he traced a spiral in the air, “makes the waves stack so is stronger.”

Letting go of the chakra current, Minato set down the coil on the table. “So you can use that to make the iron stick longer, and not the rest. Right?”

Axel nodded.

“That's so cool!” Kushina burst out. “How'd you come up with that?”

Right. That.

“I… didn't?” He blinked. “I don't know?”

It was sort of true, since he didn't know the name of whoever first invented the electromagnet. He wondered how well they would take 'some electrical engineer from another dimension' as an answer.

One eyebrow raised in question, Minato pulled over one of the sheets of paper that was covered in equations and text he couldn't read. With a rather significant look between his friend and the assorted notes, he simply said, “Really, Axel?”

Axel shrugged and looked to the side, trying to keep his thoughts away from places he'd likely never see again. “I learned about it from somebody else.”

When it looked like Kushina wanted to ask more, Minato quietly put a hand on her shoulder with a small shake of his head. For the briefest moment she looked up at him, slightly confused, and then she glanced back to Axel.

And she knew what she had almost missed.

That expression was one she should have recognized at once; one she had seen in her own reflection, years ago. And she still remembered the loss that put it there. Of course she did.

So Kushina nodded, understanding without him needing to say anything.

Then, naturally, Minato's next action was to clap his hands together to get everyone's attention and serve as a convenient distraction. “So. What's the next step, then?”

Axel was glad for the change in topic. “We need that in this wheel.” He gestured to the front roller. “Don't know how to do that.”

“Oh that's an easy one!” Kushina said brightly.

She grabbed one of the papers and flipped it over, then produced an inked brush from somewhere. A minute later, and an intricately jagged image had been drawn across the page. It look vaguely like the branching pattern lightning left behind in sand, or those videos he had seen before of electric discharge through glass, but bracketed in by characters and other designs whose purpose he couldn't even begin to guess.

With a tap to one end, the ink lit up with sparks of electricity.

Axel managed not to curse this time, but it was close.

“See? Just use a seal.”

“Ah.” He wondered if he would ever get used to the nonchalant use of ninja-magic. Probably not. “I, uhm, can't use seals.”

“Right,” she hummed, “you being a civilian and all.”

“Yes,” he agreed, maybe too quickly.

Minato chuckled. “I'm sure we can work something out.” He sat down, pulling over his own piece of paper to try things out on. “With one and a half fuinjutsu masters, anything is possible!”

“Half?” Axel asked.

“Ya know it, man!” Kushina crowed proudly, claiming her own seat. “He's still got a long way to go before he catches up ta me, ya better believe it!"

Axel blinked, that last phrase setting off an alarm somewhere in his memories—but, after a moment trying to figure out why it struck such a chord, he just ignored it. The two ninja where already huddled together, trading ideas that he couldn't follow at all; words he didn't recognize and topics he had no experience in left him so far out of his depth that he decided to just head for the metaphorical shore.

He sighed, and glanced at the clock. “I… guess I'll make us something to eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Magnetic separation is an actual thing and improves the separation yield from around 30-50% to as high as 70% purity (according to Wikipedia). There are plenty of pictures online of the sort of set-up Axel is going for, if you're interested.
> 
> Translations:  
> "Elektrizität" = "Electricity"  
> "—Elektromagnet." = "—electromagnet." (yes, quite obvious)  
> "Heilige Scheiße" = "Holy shit"
> 
> So I just checked, and it turns out I have a grand total of two weeks in the rest of the semester where I don't have a midterm exam. That's gonna be fun. Especially with NaNoWriMo coming up.  
> Hoo boy, we'll see how this goes.
> 
> Updates on the 15th of every month.  
> Thanks for all comments and kudos! I read every comment, and often take inspiration form them for how to steer the next few chapters or what sorts of things I should remember to include. So yeah, thanks!
> 
> See ya on the flipside, everyone!


End file.
